Monster High: Night of the Storm
by Mr.DarkPhantom
Summary: After 200 years of promoting understanding, acceptance and tolerance among monsters, Monster High has decided to open its doors to 2 new human interchange students, in an attempt to finally merge monsster and normie society once more. Principal Bloodgood yearns to see this as the begining of a bright new era of equality for RADs and humans, but things quickly turn into a dark path
1. Chapter 1

Monster High:

Night of the Storm

I

The school glitters eerily by the water running down its rock walls, reflecting the lightning pondering the clouds, running wild on the night sky, the crash of thunder booming, echoing through every hallway of the castle, the heavy rain reaching every inch of the coffin-shaped campus, flooding the forest and the swamp, the wind bashing savagely every tree.

Lightning and thunder have always been a prelude for disaster. In literature class Clawdeen learned that poets like Shakesfear used it to foreshadow a great tragedy, as a harbinger of death, coming before the fall of a king. Well, it wasn't really something she learned from that class, but rather from her sister Clawdia who wouldn't stop talking about it every time it rained, but it still surprised her friends when she got that answer right. Yet, another reason why she hated rain.

Knowing rain and thunder only bring ill omen, she can't help but feel she should have seen this coming. But she didn't have the luxury of such theatrics, that was her sister's gig, not hers. Maybe Draculaura could have foreseen it, she was good at that too — but poor, she didn't. And is not like the weather was the only sign, no. There were many other warnings but she ignored them all, and now all of her classmates and all her closest friends, they're all dead, even those who were undead or living dead, are dead again, truly dead! Now all she can do is cry, luckily her tears are lost in the rain, because she didn't want him to see her this way. It was already bad enough she was kneed before him, helpless, alone…

"Alone again, darling? As long as I am around, you are never alone," he whispers lovingly into her left ear, while holding a gun into her right ear and a blade on her neck…

Her beautiful golden eyes that once shone with life and hope, open widely in fear — even more fear.

Despite the mighty cold rain plummeting upon them, the stench of death still hangs heavy in the air. The smell of her friends' blood reeking from his blade mixed with the smell of gun powder was even stronger, striking her nose as a hammer.

She could never forget it even if she wanted.

9 months ago.

1 September.

Everything started that day as any other first day of class with a rather warm Autumn morning after a particularly rainy night. Students walked carefully avoiding the mud and puddles. The voice of the principal Bloodgood boomed through the halls of the school, echoing from the speakers into the ears of every single student in Monster High, calling for their presence in the Screamatorium for the welcoming of the new students, and the reveal of a particular surprise this year has come with.

Like all her friends, Clawdeen was rather curious for this new surprise, and even a tad elated. This was their last year at Monster High, and they wanted it to be special. Who knew? Maybe the headmistress had planned something special for the senior students this year, Frankie shares this thought.

"You're being way too enthusiastic," Cleo claims. "Do you really think she will do something special for us? I mean, like why? She's not that type. I've learned not to expect anything good from that woman."

"Why not?" Clawdeen counters, willing to go against her just to piss he off.

"Well, she hasn't done anything special for any of the senior class before us," Cleo started, "why start now?"

"Cleo has a point," Draculaura notes. "Wait, Cleo is right!?"

"Ahem, don't act so surprised, darling. Like if I'd been wrong before."

"Yeah, I mean is not like there is a mile-long list of things you've been wrong about in the past. Oh wait!" Clawdeen gasps.

"You want me to help you with that? Because I think you just got burned," Abbey jokes.

An hour of waiting in the Screamatorium became quite an annoyance in a very short time and the girls would often get up and wander around the hallways at least four times, always coming back after a short while, careful not to run late. With only twenty minutes before nine, they all decided to just stay on their seats and wait for the principal to appear.

"Well, look who we got here," Toralei purred from behind Cleo's seat. "You girls heard about the new students?"

"What about them?" Frankie asks

"Don't mind me, this is just a rumor, but word has it that two of the new students are, ready for this… normies."

Cleo wipes her head and gives her a look saying "…You know, you're right, we shouldn't pay attention to you."

"What makes you think that?" Clawdeen inquires. "In all the history of Monster High, the only normie that ever studied here was Frankie's grandfather. And is not like he had a great time here either. All the others students would always mock him for being an orphan and… a normie."

"Well, the school has always been open to all types of creatures, humans included, so there is always a possibility," points Draculaura. "And let's not forget Jackson is also a human. Um, well, kinda."

"Yeah, but what normie would actually want to come to this school, or send their children here?" Clawdeen goes on. "Don't get me wrong, I got nothing against them… mostly, and it'd be nice if we could get along with them and all, but I just don't think having a full flesh human student here at Monster High would actually happen."

"I'm with you," Cleo says to everyone's surprise. "I mean, I can't even imagine the principal trying to explain how did one of her normie students got eaten by another ghoul. Can you imagine how awkward that conversation with the parents must be?" She leaned towards her.

"Why are you looking at me?" Clawdeen asks frowning at her.

"Yeah, well I hope she's right about that," claims Frankie cheerfully. "I really wish we could be friends with normies. I mean, my family was made by one of them after all, and so was Robecca. I don't understand why can't we be friends?"

"I think it had something to do with horror films and Halloween, but we made a party instead of figuring out why," Spectra comments.

The girls argue in murmurs as to whether there will or even if there should be human students in Monster High this year, or any other year for that matter, until the Headmistress Bloodgood finally arrives at the podium riding her dear companion Nightmare.

After a brief introduction of all the new monster alums, most of them who were exchange students from other monster academies, there were only two students left: a hooded young lad with a listless look, wearing a simple pair of black trousers, a gray and purple double-sleeve shirt and a black leather vest sitting on the last seat next to a much more heal-looking, neatly dressed young man wearing an open-neck shirt with three-piece suit.

"I think these are the normies. They look… normal," Abbey sounds with her thick Russian accent.

"…please join me in welcoming two students I am honored to receive in my school, the first two humans to ever study in Monster High in the last 200 years: Devon Darkholme and Keith Morningstar!"

The revelation is followed by a wall of gasps and murmurs. The shock in the students of Monster High was not just palpable, it was emblazoned on all their faces.

"Were you saying?" Frankie asks wryly at her friend Clawdeen.

"Fine, you got this one, big deal," she rolled her big golden eyes, seeming uninterested in the new guy.

"Yes, it is. This is huge!" she replied. "I think I've fallen in love on first sight with the guy on the right," she sighs wistfully.

"Ew… Frankie, you're weird, everyone else would choose the one on the left." Clawdeen sounds jocularly, yet, without taking her eyes away from him.

"Not true," Cleo says, arm-folded.

"Wait, whose left and whose right? Yours or theirs?" Lagoona. She spoke with her freaky Australian accent.

"What? Uh, forget it," Clawdeen moans.

"For years Monster High has thrived to bring together all species into harmony, spreading our message of, harmony, equality, understanding, partnership and acceptance, and we have done so with a smashing success! Which is why now our priorities have changed from the merging of the different monsters societies, to the merging of human and monster society!" Bloodgood declared with growing elation. "Thus, today we'll be opening our doors to Devon and Keith; they will be part of our senior class this year and be the first human graduates from Monster High ever since Victor Frankenstein. This will be a step closer to bringing both of our communities together once again. Now before we start with our classes, is there anything you'd like to say?" she asks to her new human students.

"Not really." Keith says more to himself than to the headmistress.

"Are you sure there is nothing you'd like to share with your new classmates?"

"Well, I had this lil' speech," he began unfolding a piece of paper he had in his pocket, "but I'm not sure if I should give it after yours. It would pale in comparison." He explained as he approached the microphone with his back curved as though he couldn't with his own weight, and those who were looking at Devon — those were mostly the girls because they found him so good looking even for, or despite being a normie — noticed he had an expression in his face that said he knew that Keith's words are doomed to be stupid.

"When my former principal said he'd send me to this school, he first did it as a threat," he started reading, "to which I replied, a monster's school? Big deal, just another school. _All_ schools suck no matter what. Yet, I was elated as I thought it was a boarding school, I mean, look how big this place is! But now I'm bitterly disappointed to find out is not. I guess what I'm trying to say is: thanks for breaking my heart," he finishes giving a look at the principal, moving back to his seat.

Everyone looks around disconcerted and somewhat amused, as some of them actually felt the same way their first day.

"Devon, please tell me you got something better," the principal begged him vexed.

"Luckily I do…" said approaching the stage.

"Well, that's something we can agree on," Cleo sounds to her friends. "Schools suck no matter what."

"Whatever," Clawdeen sounds still gazing at him. There was something about that guy, she didn't know what it was, but she couldn't stop looking at him. Is not like she found him _that_ attractive, but is not like she _didn't_ find him attractive.

When compared to each other, they seemed so different. One looked like a sheltered prodigy, as a plant in a greenhouse, gardened and nurtured everyday, treated with utmost care, whereas the other had a rather… wild and peculiar outlook, the hair and the pallor, she would dare to say he even looked seedy. There was no questioning on how would Devon get chosen to be part of this social undertaking (as the principals of Monster High and New Salem's High referred to), yet Keith would let you wonder if they truly sent him here just so his old school could get rid of him.

During lunch, Frankie would ask "So what you ghouls think about the new guys?"

"You mean the normies? They're fine I guess," Robecca began. "The other ghouls actually seem to like him, like… a lot," she sounds looking at Devon who against all predictions, seemed to be adjusting very well, making a surprisingly prompt progress in breaking the ice with his classmates. Not like the girls wanted to cut distance between them and him anyway.

"Yeah, not so surprised. That guy is actually… kinda cute. You know, for a normie," Cleo admitted.

"I think they're both cute. But yeah, he's more… dreamy," Frankie sounds wistfully.

"If Frankie is interested in new normie guy, why not break ice and go talk to him?" Abbey adds giggling. "See what I did there? Break ice."

"I think he already has enough people to talk to," she reasons looking at Operetta, Skelita, Sirena and even Gory (who had broken up with Bram last year) sitting around him.

"I bet she's deciding whether to turn him or just bite him," Howleen says, and indeed right now Gory can only think he would make a fine vampire.

"I don't think she'll turn him," Cleo counters. "All she'll do is suck his — "

"Isn't it two of them?" Clawdeen cut her off. "Where is the other guy… Keenan, Kel…"

"Keith?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I think he's sitting there," Lala said pointing at Keith sitting in a corner all by himself. "Poor thing. I don't know why, but I kinda feel bad for him, he looks so… lonely."

"Yeah, it is a bummer. But give him some time and maybe he'll adjust," Robecca reasons. "It's never easy to be the new one."

"You think?" Clawdeen says glaring at Devon.

"It's always different for everybody. But he seems like a nice guy too. A little spooky though, but I feel he'll do fine," Lagoona sounds optimistic.

But the ghouls were not the only ones whose attention was drawn by Devon, for even the guys couldn't stop looking at him. Yet, their feelings fell more among the lines of fear and jealousy, threatened by his mere presence and the attention he received from girls because it was just so scary to see how all of them fancied him!

Except Deuce claims to be confident he had nothing to fear because he knew that his ghoulfriend Cleo was way out of his league, and would never leave him for a guy like him. And "even if he tried to flirt with her," he began telling his friends, "I can always turn him into rock." Gorgon states sitting just two tables away from Devon.

Devon is a young man of only 17 years old, taller than the common human males of his age with neat light brown hair and brown eyes that mirrored a friendly soul. During his first week at Monster High, whenever you see him, he will always dress very neatly and formally if not semi-formal and more often than not, he would complete his outfit with a fedora, unless the situation called for otherwise. In his former school, he was considered one of the most handsome guys, something that doesn't go unnoticed even by his new female classmates at Monster High who quickly fancied him as though he was one of them. Is not like normies and monsters dating is something unheard of, Frankie dated a human guy named Bret before coming to Monster High, and even there she almost dates Jackson, Holt's human side. But it was so weird and somewhat disturbing to see that many ghouls fall for a single normie.

Even Cleo DeNile notices how smooth he is, which makes her boyfriend Deuce Gorgon burst in jealousy. More so when he found out they were going to spend more time together than he'd like since she was paired up with him for an economics project. He didn't like to be away from his ghoulfriend and he liked the idea of Cleo working with Devon even less, he didn't want his ghoulfriend anywhere near that guy. It was already bad to enough to see all the other ghouls going crazy about him despite being a normie and a newcomer, the last thing he needed was his ghoulfriend on the same train, because in truth, he felt threatened by his mere presence, as though danger hid behind that affable face. Maybe it was paranoia or just pure jealousy, but he wasn't up to admit it, at least not as easily.

But after a few days hanging around with Devon, just to make sure he won't try anything with her, he saw why all girls were so mad about him, it wasn't just that he was good-looking — scary good-looking, but also he was so nice, he had a vibe that invited people to like him despite how different they might be.

There he saw he might have misjudged him, maybe he had nothing to fear from him. Only then he was able to confess to his girlfriend how he felt, and what was her response to this confession? Cleo simply crossed her arms and gave him a stern look, reassuring him her love for him, reminding him she wouldn't leave him for any other guy, especially not a human "no mater how dreamy he is." She made that a promise.

That night he sneaked out of his girlfriend's house with a stiff reminder that she loved him more than anyone except herself, but he would still turn him into stone if he ever looked at Cleo as anything other than a friend.

Of course, right now as he runs through the forest of New Salem's monster side, he can hardly see anything. Deuce can't remember for sure how he got so astray from his way home, but he knew the man behind him had everything to do with it.

Very few times in his life he has been afraid of anything or anyone, and never the way he is now because this hooded figure with five long silver claws protruding from his hands was clearly something to look out for.

Is not even like he gave him a warning before attacking him from behind, at least rattle snakes have the courtesy of warning when they attack, but he just simply stepped out of the shade and mauled him. At first he thought it was a random thug, but when his stoning gaze didn't work on him, he knew there was nothing random about him. This man, whoever or whatever he is, came prepared for him.

That is not saying Deuce went down without a fight, but it was useless, at the end he was knocked out with no effort. If he could describe the fist on his face in his last moments of consciousness, he would say it was like granite.

Hours later he was tied up to a very old operation table, those that haven't been used since the 19 century. Over his head, he could see, though barely, the glimmer of the stars hanging in the night sky as a myriad of distant steady fireflies. Given his situation, he was lucky to get a decent glimpse of this view; if only he had stopped before to gaze at the stars more often. But at least he would have one last beautiful image burned into his brain before his eyes were spooned out of its sockets.

That night Deuce screamed as he has never screamed before. Words couldn't fit the pain he felt as the blunt spoon dug its way into his eye-socket, gouging deeper and deeper, rolling around until his nerves were cut out and the eye was ready to pop.

His screaming filled the room as did the many torture instruments around him, but the worst part is that once his right eye was gone, he waited for nothing to gouge his left eye.

You'll see, that morning everyone at Monster High was agape, in shock, ghouls were in horror for the most hideous thing they've seen in their non-lives, creatures were speechless, and only one person at school couldn't see what it was about. When students found Deuce at the doors of the school with only two black empty holes where his eyes used to be and blood dried on his face as tears, they tried to keep Cleo away from this view, but no force could do so…

Cleo ran to hold the barely breathing body of her loved one while bursting into tears.

Never before her friends saw her this devastated, it was the first time she shows how much she loves someone other than herself, and they felt so bad for her and Deuce, that they didn't know what to say to make her feel better — there were no words that could ever make things better!

Even Clawdeen wanted to comfort her but didn't try as she knew there was no comforting her. The only glimmer of hope was that Deuce would survive with the proper medical care, and being terrifyingly wealthy, Cleo took care of the expenses for the necessary treatment for Deuce. Her father didn't dare to oppose.

Yet, as terrible as this was, the day kept on going and so ghouls had to do the same and start their classes today. Of course, that didn't mean they wouldn't stop talking about the grim event of this morning.

"What a way to start our last year," Clawdeen sighs. "As if last year isn't usually bad enough, now we got an eye-psycho gouging our friends' eyes."

"Now, _that's_ bad," Ghoulia yelped.

"Who could possibly do something so terrible?" Lagoona spoke. It was the first time something like this happened in all the history of Monster High.

"It must be someone who hated him," Ghoulia said in her zombie moaning, as that is the only way zombies can speak. "If you girls saw her. I can't even look at Cleo without crying myself."

"Yeah, I can't bear to see her that way either, but who could hate him as much? Everybody liked him," Lala points out.

"Ghouls, why don't we just leave it to the police?" Frankie suggests in a cry. Truth is she didn't want to speak about this for it was just too horrible for her to bear.

"…to think… he and Clawd were supposed to have a party tonight with all our friends before he goes to college… guess there is none of that anymore," Draculaura moaned so sadly.

Never before they felt so… lifeless.

Then Abbey asks "What is headmistress Bloodgood going to do now?"


	2. Chapter 2

II

On the first week of class, everyone was talking about the new guys. The first normies to study in Monster High in 200 years. Jackson thought it was offensive they didn't count him as a human student as well, but given he turns into Holt whenever he listen to loud music, he couldn't really count as such, could he? His peers didn't seem to think so. And it took a long time for them to accept him as one of them and stop bullying him… every single day. And they were supposed to make friends with these two normies!? Well, for once that didn't seem to be a problem.

Naturally, some students saw them as invaders and weren't so receptive as the headmistress wanted, but some others were fine and even willing to try and get along with them. At least with Darkholme anyway.

Of course, she didn't truly admit it, but honestly she wasn't as fascinated by him as the other ghouls were. She admitted she found him a nice, handsome fellow, but she didn't see anything special about him. What are all the other ghouls so crazy about? He's just a guy. Even her little sister Howleen had it for him.

"He's got a nice style, I'll give him that," Clawdeen reckons.

But where is the other guy? Clawdeen would ask, being the only one who notices Keith's absence in the creepateria. To her annoyance, Cleo suggests that maybe the reason she wasn't infatuated with Devon as the other girls seemed to be, is because she already had a crush on Keith.

"Nah. There is just something about Keith that seems… wild to me. And not in a good sense, more like in a 'he can't be left alone for a second' sense," she argued.

Not like she could deny her attention was drawn to Keith the second he stood up on the auditorium. But that was not to say she was attracted to him in any way, instead she would dare to say she felt more intrigued and a little sad for the boy since nobody spoke to him, whereas the other guy was welcomed by almost everyone.

"Oh my, I wonder if it has something to do with the way he literally crawled up the wall as a spider and jumped out of a window when we gave them a tour on the school? Hard to welcome a guy who defenestrates himself in a welcoming tour," Cleo adds.

"Yeah, that was kind of fun," Lala admitted with giggles.

"Cleo is right. Usually is we avoid normies or they avoid us, but with hooded boy seems to be both," Abbey explains.

"Well, you heard his friend. He gets… anxious around pretty girls," Clawdeen reminds her. "I'm guessing being around five fearleaders was too much for him."

"So we scared the guy because we're just too hot to handle? Ah. It works for me," Cleo says proudly. "But then again, he jumped out of a window on second floor. That was at least a ten foot fall."

"So, maybe he doesn't know how to manage himself around girls," Twyla suggests. "Is not like he's the first guy you girls intimidate with your… outlandish personalities?" She inquires causing all girls to glance at each other. "Trust me, I can understand his position, not everyone can make friends with anyone as easy," she sympathized. "Ironical, since that's why he was sent here in the first place."

"Oh, maybe you should try make friend with him," Frankie suggests.

"What!? Why?" Twyla sounds looking down her food.

"Why not? You two got a lot in common: you both like to avoid people, like to wander in the shadows unnoticed by anyone and have nearly zero social skills," Abbey explained.

"…are you trying to make a joke?"

"Do you realize the biggest flaw in your otherwise very terrible plan? If they have zero social skills, how are they going to socialize with each other?" Clawdeen points dangling a morsel of flesh-lovers screechza.

"Or we can pretend I never said anything," she suggests taking an al-bone-diga to her mouth.

"You know, I heard Manny tried to 'welcome' him the other day," Rochelle says.

"Oh, that couldn't be good," Lala says. "We all know he can be…"

"An idiotic _bull_ y?" Ghoulia moaned.

"For what I heard he tried to mess with him…" she continued, "so Keith beat him up with a chair instead."

"Wait, you're saying Keith, that crony normie guy, was able to beat Manny with a chair? I don't think so," Clawdeen says.

"Yeah, me neither," the rest of the ghouls said.

"Why don't _you_ go talk to him?" Cleo tells Clawdeen.

"Uh, why me?"

"Well, you are the only one who actually seems to remember we got _a second_ normie exchange student for once," Cleo began. "Also, I saw the way he was looking at you, _and_ I've seen the way you look at _him_."

"What's that supposed to mean? What 'way'?" She glared at her.

"You know, the way Lala looks at Clawd, or how Frankie looked at Jackson and Holt when they first meet, or how she looked at Neighthan before their inevitable break up, and Beast… and nearly any guy she meets actually."

"Quick question. Just how many mates do you plan to have until you find the one that can satisfy you?" Abbey asks; once again she makes not-so-good use of her ability to poke at the truth with the subtlety of a jackhammer.

"Excuse me, why are you turning this about me and my love life? I thought this is about Clawdeen having a crush on the new guy, not me."

"What?! I don't have a crush on him. I don't have a crush on anybody! And this is not about me and him, this about the rest of the school and this whole Devon worshiping. The idea is we try to make friends with both of them."

"Fine, then why don't you go talk and make friends with him?" Cleo sounds in a daring tone.

"Well, maybe I will… if… I can tell where he is anyway," she answers looking around the creepateria, having no sign of him.

"I'm not even sure he came to class today," Robecca said.

"Well, at least you can't say the principal's plan is _not_ working, even if is at least half the truth," Lagoona added.

"…And for the record my relationship with Neighthan was not doomed to fail. We just had… different goals," Frankie explained.

"Sweetie, he left you for his childhood best friend and only you didn't see it coming," Cleo remembered her opening an old wound.

Looking at the rest of her friends, she pleads "Remind me again, why are we friends with her?"

"I don't know," Clawdeen says.

"Uh… We like Ghoulia," Draculaura said getting a peeved look from Cleo.

"Ahem, because I'm the most fascinating person you've meet in your unlives."

"Depends, are you a movie star?" Lala asked.

"Not yet."

"Then you're not the most fascinating person we've meet."

Sometimes Cleo could be such a pain in the ass. To say such a ludicrous things — not like there was anything wrong with a normie and a monster falling in love, but she hated when people played match-maker with her; she just wanted to forget about her. No, first she wanted to bury her alive and then forget about her. Luckily for both of them, next class was Dragonomics, her favorite class and that called for all her focus, so no more nonsense. Clawdeen wasn't going to open her own fashion company by bothering herself with Cleo's stupid comments… or sleeping in the classroom either. Of course, with such a particularly boring class as today, and being so tired for the little rest she had for studying all night long for today's Clawculus test, who could blame her? Not like she had a full moon to stay up all night.

Good thing the guy sitting to her right felt the selfless desire of waking her up… by sticking his pencil's eraser in her left ear.

Startled, she rises her head gasping, just in time for the class assignments.

"Class, today's assignment shall be thrilling for you," economics teacher began, "we're going to leave our books behind and experience some real-unlife economics: renting anAPARTMENT, applying for a credit card, opening a retirement account," he explained. "Of course, I don't expect you to actually rent an apartment or what have you. You'll just go through as much of the process as you can and report back on your experiences. Your assignment tonight is to pick a project and a partner."

"Excuse me, what if we prefer to work alone?" She asked

"Am with her," Keith said. "Must we really do this in pairs?" he moaned.

"Ah, Keith? You've been there all the time? Wait, so you stuck your pencil in my ear?"

"You're welcome," he turned around, looking at her through his yellow shield sunglasses.

A strange feeling came to her; he sat next to her during the entire class and she didn't notice him until he spoke; he truly was like a boogieman. But she was also irked since he dared to stick his pencil in her ear! He did it for a good reason, but there were at least 16 possible ways to wake her up better than using his pencil.

"Yes you do. This kind of transactions are too complicated to be done a by a single teenager without experience, so It'd be better if you work with someone."

"Why!?" Keith groaned.

"In the real world, we rarely make financial decisions without having to consider someone else's needs and wishes."

"Stupid real-world!" Clawdeen and Keith utter at the same time

"Ok, here is my counter proposal — "

"Let me stop you right there," the teacher cuts him off. "Given all your comments during the entire class, I take it you don't know how to handle your money wisely so I'm pairing you up with one of my best students, Clawdeen Wolf."

"Huh? Why?" She cried.

"Don't do me any favors. Who's her anyway?" Keith ask.

"Ah, hello, over here. That woulda be _me_ , the _werewolf_ girl sitting right _next_ to you."

"You are a werewolf?"

"Duh! Didn't you wonder why do I got such big ears, big golden eyes and big fangs?"

"Hey, what people does with their bodies is not my problem."

"What — ? We meet the other day. I was part of the welcome committee you bailed-on last Monday when you jumped off a window. You know, one of the fearleaders. Does it ring any bell?"

"Oh, now I remember… Sorry about that. I don't like tours."

"Don't tell. How did you ever get chosen for this program?"

"Beats me. Somebody must have lost their head when they did it."

Clawdeen moans exasperated with her paws flat across her wickedly pretty face.

"Unbelievable." Said to herself.

"You know, I'm starting to see why Keith doesn't have any friends yet," Clawdeen comments to Frankie after school. "The guy is a complete asshole! He's rude to people for no reason."

"What people?"

"Well, so far just me. But I'm sure he's the same with others too. I mean, I'm paired up with him for this freakynomics project and he's like 'who's her?' How could he not remember me!?"

"Not that I'm taking his side here, but you couldn't remember his name either."

"Maybe, but telling somebody not to do you any favors when asking you to be her partner in a project, that's a jerk thing."

"Didn't you just say the dragonomics creature paired you up with him?"

"Well yeah, but — "

"Then the two of you have nothing to complain."

"Ok, who are you?"

"Ah. I feel like teasing you today, change the dynamics of our relationship a little bit. Look, I've learned there's people who acts like jerks because they're afraid of getting hurt, and those who hurt others because they are just born jerks; but whichever he is, you could have things in common," she explained. "The only way to know is by talking to the guy, who knows? You may end up liking him even more."

"I told you, I don't like the guy. I detest him," she growls.

"Denial."

"Whatever," said before glancing at Keith leaning towards them.

"Yo," he greet them.

"Speaking of the devil," Clawdeen said peeved as she reached for her imposed partner, while Frankie falls at Toralei's mercy.

"Frankie, just my favorite simulacrum," she said coming at her from behind, putting her claws on her shoulders.

"What is it you want now?" She sighed.

"Well, I was wondering do you wanna do that freakynomics project with me?"

"You want to do a class project with _me_?" she confirmed.

"Well, not really, but I mean, you're right here and all. And we don't really have any other choice, I asked everyone else and all the good partners are taken."

"Oh, Toralei, you sweet-talker, you are lucky to be right. Fine, not like it'd be any different from doing it alone. Good luck with your project," Frankie shouted to Clawdeen and Keith as she and Toralei walk away.

Talking to no one in particular, but more as to himself Keith murmurs "I hate everybody," in an almost sorrowful tone before giving his attention to Clawdeen. "So, you ready to work?"

"Sure."

Quickly, Clawdeen and Keith agreed to discuss their project at the Maul since they couldn't really go to each other's place and it was easier to go there. Naturally he kept his hood on all the time hiding his face in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention from other monsters, which somehow backfired as some stared at him in a paranoid way, thinking he was actually a thief.

"Come on, girl. If you don't like any of these other projects, all we're left with is taking out a small-business loan, renting anAPARTMENT, or budgeting a funeral," he sounded, tired of Clawdeen rejecting all the options for their project.

Coincidentally, Howleen and her friends pass by and she hears her sister saying how her outfit was entirely her design, when in actuality it was one of Clawdeen's old designs only but re-painted by her.

"Is that by any chance a sibling's funeral?"

"It won't say," he read his notebook. "We can get always get anAPARTMENT."

"Why don't we try the loan? I do want to start my own business once I finish college after all."

"Yes, let's start a business. Nothing like being your own boss. Maybe for once, I can put myself to work."

Somehow, his remark made her giggle.

"What should we call it?"

"How about 'Brink of Bankruptcy, Incorporated'? We've been receiving your money to stay broke since 2015."

"No."

"You don't like the slogan? Ok, what about this: we promise you will LITERALLY be giving us money for doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!"

"…Just leave it to me. How about 'Lobo Style Designs'?"

"You know that spells LSD, right? That's how you wanna call our imaginary company? Sure, because what bank doesn't want to invest on that?"

"Why not? I like it."

"Of course you do," he murmured. "Just to be clear, you're not taking a no for an answer, right?"

"No."

"Then yes. Not the first time I deal with the likes anyway."

"Good. Ok, now let's see how'd you approach their questions. Pretend I'm the loan officer," she cleared her throat and pretended to be the bank loaner. "Well, before giving you the money, why us? Many other banks in the area do this sort of transactions."

"Well, of course," says in his usual arrogant tone. "You're the fifteenth bank I apply for a loan."

"Fifteenth? Ok, how about something doesn't make them think of you as a risk."

"Indeed," continued ignoring her comment, "one loaner actually vomited upon hearing where do I come from. Don't blame him. Finally I was given your name. I assume they thought you have the fortitude to take more risks than a _common_ bank loaner. And I must say, now I can see you, there's really nothing _common_ about you."

"Wait… Is that — are you flirting with me now?"

"Huh, yeah. Probably. Said 'pretend I'm the loan officer,' and that's what I would do if the loan officer was as unique and fetching as you are."

Clawdeen moans in frustration with both her hands on her face, yet flattered by the comment admitting "Well, there's nothing common about me, I'll give you that… and I look fabulous in my business outfit!" said in elation "But you cannot… You know what…? just let _me_ do the talking. You just sit there and don't get your mouth out of that hood, don't want you to ruin anything," she says over the ruckus of all the monsters passing by. "Maybe coming to the Maul wasn't a bright idea. It's a little busy in here," she reckons. "You want to take a break and get some screechza?"

"What's that?"

"Is how we call pizzas."

"Can I put it on my Lobo Style Design's expense report?"

Clawdeen sighs vexed and rolls her eyes.

While they waited for their screechza Clawdeen decided to give it a shot and try to make friends with Keith, make some chit-chat and know him better, after all it was only logical she knew more than the name of her partner. Usually he would have been reluctant to chat but he felt like doing it, mostly because it was her treat — entirely because it was her treat. And most to her surprise, once they started talking, they hit it off in a very brief time.

Somehow, beneath this gloomy and arrogant personality there was a guy who could make her laugh and she enjoyed talking to.

"Wow… you… you talked him into gluing himself to that train?" she says between laughs.

"Oh, yeah; he ran pretty fast! Best part is that he ended up naked! First time I ever saw a giraffe laughing."

"That's so mean and somehow is so funny," she says between giggles.

"Yep. Is one of the downsides of being his one and only friend."

"How comes you are his only friend? For what I've seen, he should be friends with the entire town."

"He's got other friends, but I'm the only one who's with him because he's cool and not rich. Considering all the physical pain I can convince him to inflict himself though, he should go back to the fake friends," he laughs.

"Yes he should. I must say you make a horrible first impression, and an even worse second and third impression, but I think I'm starting to like you," she admitted.

"And why would that be?"

"I wouldn't know how to tell, on one side you're actually kinda fun…"

"You'll think that as long as I don't convince you to glue yourself to a train."

"Right. And you're cute in your own way. But there is also something about you that seems… I don't know how to say it… wolf like me. I guess…" said to herself.

"Well, I've always been more of a lone wolf myself. No pun intended."

"Non taken."

"You know, this place is almost empty, why don't you take that hood off?" She insisted.

He decides to please the pretty wolf girl sitting before him, and uncovers his head letting out his short, messy black hair, with part of his bangs falling between his gray-blue eyes which she saw as green through the yellow sunglasses. There was no denying he was remarkably good-looking. She didn't know how she could have missed it, but it was somewhat the same brand of 'disturbing' good looks as Devon, but he had a faded goatee that gave him a less childish charm and even wilder kind of vibe; his eyes were wider — when not frown — and his mouth could be derisive and (as she would eventually learn) cruel. He was definitely the opposite of Devon.

"Ok, new topic. Sports?"

"Only hockey."

"Really?"

"Yep. Captain of the team."

"You are joking."

"I'm not."

"I can't imagine you dating a cheerleader."

"I didn't, they were all a mirror of themselves, obnoxious as hell."

"Well, that's a shame. If you weren't so aloof and over brooding, you might actually be a decent boyfriend material."

"Just decent?"

"Hey, you're making me pay for your food."

" _Touch_ _é_. What about you?"

"Well, I'm a werewolf, so let's just say I'm _best_ at anything…" said looking how their meal was served. "But don't be surprised if you only find a picture of me in a baseball or a Fear Squad uniform."

Once their screechzas were on the tables, she asked him "Are you sure you can eat that? I think half the ingredients in that thing are not even known by humans."

"Hey, I didn't get to this far in life by _not_ eating things I _shouldn't_ eat," said biting a slice of screechza with green sauce. "Is it normal the cheese tries to crawl out of my throat?"

"Only if you don't chew well enough."

On Thursday Clawdeen took Keith to the bank to start with their LSD loan project, dressing accordingly with a real businessperson-looking gold and purple outfit with a black skirt and purple purse, unlike Keith who came in a more casual look wearing only a hooded shirt with a red biker leather jacket and a pair of black biking trousers.

"You gotta be joking, you come to the bank asking for a loan like that?"

"Well, I can come in naked, would you like that better? 'Cause I can fix it," said, blushing and upsetting his partner.

"Just get in there!" growled Clawdeen.

Confident as always, Clawdeen stepped inside the bank and exposed her proposal to the bank loan officer, a middle aged male centaur.

"Well, so much for flirting my loan here," Keith whispers in her ear as they enter the office; she didn't realize until now that he was actually slightly taller than her even while wearing heels.

Clawdeen giggles as she takes seat and starts presenting her project to the loan officer.

"…and so, Lobo Style Designs plans to allow young monsters access to highly fashionable clothes that reflects their individual style and even promote the new talents so getting unique freaky clothes becomes as natural to them as, say, getting a screechza in the Maul."

"Because we all know how natural those screechzas are." Keith points out with his face hidden in his hood, while swirling in the spinning chair.

"And just exactly what is your role in the company, Mr… Morningstar?" the loan officer asks reading his name on the clipboard.

"Public relations officer. Don't you see? I'm the face of the company."

Quickly Clawdeen added "Keith is the inside person; I'm the outside person."

"Good thinking. Well, I'll tell you what. It's a fascinating idea, and a very impressive presentation, though I'd like to suggest a different name, perhaps? People might get the wrong idea if they see the acronym LSD."

"Like what?"

"They may think they're buying a new tv screen," Keith said. "Some might get real upset when they realize they're not."

"Right, that. Also two youngsters still in high school with no business experience is what we call 'high-risk applicants.' I really don't think the bank will give you a loan. Unless, you want to ask your parents to cosign for it."

"I don't think I can do that. He's already had one heart attack," Keith utters.

"Oh, well, then… I'm sorry. What about your father? Does he know anything about business?" he asks Clawdeen.

"Ah, well…. He's… good at cutting deals and throat-slicing strategies."

Next day on Friday, everyone made their presentations, Frankie and Toralei talked about how they applied for renting anAPARTMENT and failed to do so due to Toralei being herself. Deuce and Heath on the other hand, went for the buying a car project, one that Heath actually paid for with the money he had saved his entire unlife for his dreamed dragon pet, when he didn't have to, thus getting stuck with a used car that barely works.

"So at the end, this project taught us some important lessons about financial transactions in the real world," Deuce concluded.

"Yeah… like never leave a cash down payment," Heath started crying. "Oh Goth, don't let them see me like this!" shrieked falling on his knees. "Don't see me like this, baby! Don't see me like this!"

Abbey sighs exasperated for seeing her boyfriend crying in front of the classroom; the cold emanated from her breath chills Operetta who sits in front of her, with a small snowfall over her head.

"See, and that's why you must pay attention to class. Now, let's hear from Keith and Clawdeen, who went out seeking a loan to start a new… LSD company? I truly hope we're talking about flat screens here."

Clawdeen sighs as she stands before the class with Keith.

"To commence this task, we first started by defining internally exactly what our financial objectives would be," he began.

"But before visiting banks to apply for a loan, we putted all our numbers in order. We had to anticipate the bankers' questions with detailed answers. Some that work, that don't, and some that are better left unsaid…" she continued, giving a stern look at he partner.

Their presentation went on for about twenty minutes and gave them an A. They were followed by Cleo and Devon, who arranged a funeral for a close relative. Soon after class was finished, Frankie approached Clawdeen curious to know how was her experience working with Keith.

"So… how was it?"

"Fine I guess. I got an A."

"Good, but that's no what I asked. C'mon, don't be shy. I heard you went on a date with him the other day," said as they moved on to their next class.

"What!? I was not on a date him, and who did you hear that from? Was it Spectra? That ectoplasmic minx! I thought she was done with rumors."

"First of all: no, it was Howleen. Said she saw you eating screechza with him. And second of all: minx?"

"Aargh… I knew I should have gone with the funeral," she moaned distraughtly. "Ok, just to be clear we were not on a date. We just had a break for screechza."

"Said you were laughing a lot with him."

"Was she following me? I just did as you said. I talked to the guy and… well, let's say you were right, he's not so bad once you get to know him better. Keith can actually be very funny when you pass behind the cranky, know-it-all curmudgeon part. But if he asks you out to the zoo, say no," she added promptly.

"What?" she asks confused.

"Specially if there is a kids' train. In fact if you ever see him anywhere with animals and/or a train… just zigzag. Zigzag and run."

"Ok… if you say so," Frankie accepts, not sure she wants to understand this baffling advice.

"Unless you get an extra hand with you… or a dress."

"Right… Wait, why would he ask me out? Did he say anything about me?!" she sounds rather interested.

"No. I thought you liked the other guy."

"Yeah, but Keith also cute, in a scary bad nerdy boy sort of way."

"Well, sorry but he didn't. Actually… now that I think I about it… I think he kinda hit on me."

"And I'm guessing you like it."

"Well, it didn't bother me. Not really," stated with a smile, flashing her white-pearl fangs.

Truth is she actually enjoyed that moment at the Maul when he said she was _unique_ and _fetching_ , because not many guys had said that straight to her face.

"Well, at least one of us had a good time with her partner," said Frankie.

After muling a few seconds "Scary bad nerdy boy?"

"Yeah, I mean how many bad boys do you see with a man-purse? Only nerds do that."


	3. Chapter 3

III

The next class, which was dead language with Mr. Rotter, Clawdeen spent most of the time trying to ignore his ranting, speaking with Frankie who complained about how vexing it was working with Toralei. Jokingly Frankie suggest the only way she'd be friends with her, was only if they were locked up an entire day in Monster High as in The Breakfast Chamber, which then lead to a conversation about the remake which Clawdeen insisted was a dull and uninspired attempt of recreating and revamping the first movie.

Following Dead Language, they had their lunch break where they saw Keith eating alone on the outdoor part of the creepateria, and went to talk to him on Frankie's insistence.

"So, it's been a week already since you started in Monster High, how is it?" Clawdeen inquired sitting next to him with Frankie under the shade of an oak three.

"Fine I guess," he sounded with apathy, "like I said, is just like any other school. You're the only one who's talked to me and that's only because we were paired up," said biting his double meat hamburger.

"Don't tell…" she said not paying attention to his words, but staring fixedly at the two juicy pieces of meat between buns he had in his hands.

"…Excuse me, you want some?" he offered.

"What? Oh, no-no. I'm just… Today is vegetarian food only and I'm not a fan of veggies so…" suddenly she stops speaking, staring mesmerized at his food.

"Clawdeen… you're drooling," said Frankie.

"I'm so sorry!" said snapping back to reality. "I'm just so hungry."

"We can tell."

"Look, if you wanna a bite just say it," he said.

"That's nice from you, but I couldn't. Is your food."

"Clawdeen, if you don't eat something, you're gonna be like that all day," Frankie said.

"You should listen to… whatever her name is."

"My name is Frankie. Frankie Stein," she introduced herself stretching her hand.

"Frankie Stein?" said shaking her hand. "Hold me this, please," said to Clawdeen handing her his hamburger. "Frankie Stein, Frankenstein, Frankie… Stein," sounded as though he was trying to solve a riddle. "Frankie Stein, Frankenstein. You're made of different body parts of doubtful origin stitch together, you got two screws on your neck… your name sounds like Frankenstein… Are you by any chance related to Victor Frankenstein?"

"Oh my. And you only had to mull onto it for a minute. Yes, as you might have noticed, he's my grandfather. I just have a shorter version of his surname."

"Nailed it! I like your eyes, by the way."

"Thanks!"

"Your parents couldn't find a matching set?"

"I don't know. I think they gave me my grandfather's eyes."

"So you got your grandpa's eyes? That's so bloody sick… I love it. Where's my hamburger?" asked looking for it.

"Ups… I'm sorry, I-I couldn't hold myself, but I… I was so hungry," Clawdeen apologized.

"No worries. I was counting on it, now we're even for the pizza. Now, help me understand something, girls. On this week I've been here, I've noticed you got all kinds of monsters from all over the world and the one thing you all have in common is that you do to words what your grandpa did to your parents and you all love to use the vaguely defined term _ghoul_ for pretty much anything."

"Ah! Not anything," protests Clawdeen.

"Actually we do. Hey, wanna go to see a movie with us?" asked Frankie, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"A movie?"

"I think you'll like this. It's called The Creeper, it's about a teacher that goes axe-crazy and kills all his students. Kinda like what Mr. Hax's dreams of doing."

"Wait, you mean he _hasn't_ killed anybody yet?"

"Not that we know of," Clawdeen replies.

"Look, here is the promo," said Frankie taking out her iCoffin playing a video where a young werecat gets denailed in the most gruesome way.

"Didn't think you liked that kind of movies," said he.

"Yeah, me neither," added Clawdeen.

"You can thank Neighthan. He showed me the first of the trilogy and somehow I loved it."

"This is mighty nice from you and is totally my kind of movie but I'll have to decline your kind offer, theaters are crowded places and that's not something I enjoy," Keith explained as he got up with his man-purse. "But feel free to call me if you ever need anything. I always know a guy or two."

"Wait, how do we call you if we don't have your number?" Clawdeen asked.

"Check your hair," said as he walked backwards.

Touching their hair, they find a card with his number on each their heads.

"How did he do that?" Frankie asked realizing he was gone.

"Well, I'm guessing is just you and me for the movie."

"Meow, did somebody say movie?" Toralei purred from behind the three startling the two ghouls.

"Damn it! Toralei, what is it with you and sneaking up people from behind?!" Clawdeen growled.

"I realized is easier to startle people when I jump at them from nowhere. Now, I believe somebody said something about a movie before getting turned down by that guy."

"You're not coming with us," Frankie spoke.

"Why not? We were almost roommates, if, you know, I hadn't try to eat that lady's crow. Sorry about that."

"Well, as you said last time, we're not friends," Clawdeen said curtly. "Besides, don't you have your own set of friends to go with?"

"Yeah, but they don't like the movies I wanna watch and I always get in the middle of their cat fights for who gets the last candy bar."

"How sad. You're still not coming with us," insisted Clawdeen.

"I'll pay for the candies."

Frankie mulls onto her offer for almost a minute before declaring "You pay for the nachos and you can come."

" _Meow_. You won't regret it."

"I already do."

"Hence the future tense," said as she left.

"And don't bring the twins!" Frankie shouted.

"You know is not gonna end well, don't you?" Clawdeen sounds.

"I do."

"We should bring the rest of the gang. Except Lala, you know how she gets with blood."

That Saturday they watched The Creeper, which lasted over three hours and to everyone's surprise, this time not even the pretty-prettiest ghoul survives, breaking the golden rule of all horror movies.

"My goth, now I see why they keep you around," said Toralei to Frankie.

"Because I'm really cool person despite how annoying others might be?"

"No, you silly. For spare parts."

"Why are you here again?" Cleo groaned.

"She paid the nachos," Clawdeen said while texting on her iCoffin as she did during half of the movie.

"What nachos? I didn't get any nachos," Cleo complained.

"The ones I ate!" Holt said.

"Good thing Draculaura isn't here, that Dirge is a real bloodthirsty dick," said Deuce.

"It gets worse in the books," Frankie said.

"Books?"

"Yeah, you know the ones without pictures."

"I can't even imagine how could it be any worse, the man cut off that ghoul's eyes with a razor blade."

" _I loved it,_ " Ghoulia said in her zombie moaning.

"Yeah, you and Frankie seemed to enjoy that movie, like a little too much," Clawdeen said.

"Unlike somebody who was texting the whole time," Cleo says.

"Hey, it's a three hours movie where _everybody_ dies. Three hours! I can't watch a movie that long. Not without a break at least," Clawdeen argued.

" _Well, that's my kind of story,_ " Ghoulia moaned again.

"I can't imagine living my life without my precious eyes," Deuce continued. "I know they're troublesome sometimes, but I love them. It'd be awful if something like that happened to me."

"Don't worry love, I doubt there is anybody crazy enough to do something like that," Cleo said, never knowing that movie was closer to be their reality.

8 September.

With her head on her table and her body walking up and down her office, headmistress Bloodgood asks herself "What am I going to do now?"

Deuce's attack didn't happen in school ground, but he was dropped on the doors of the school on Monday just before dawn so everyone can see him. The monster authorities would handle the case, but in her heart of hearts she knew better than to have any faith in them for they're useless.

They have never had a case like this!

Is then when she remembers not all cops are useless, Devon himself was son of an actually successful detective, even better, in his record it said he had helped his father solve many cases like this, even assisting the local police from his side of town as a "consultant."

Indeed he was as smart as he could be, even smarter than he should be for his age shed dare to say, and had experience with this sort of things despite his youth.

But she had to be losing her head to ask a brand new student to help her in such labor, but she was even more terrified by the idea of something like this happening again. She was desperate, and her need to protect the school and her students was never as great.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Whoever did this was surely a menace to her students. She needed a task force to catch him.

"You want us to do what!?" Rochelle asked in her always-so-lovely French accent, only this time its charm was lost in the shock of her voice.

"I need you to turn the school's Student Safety Team into a task force to trap whoever did this to Deuce. Now, we know the authorities are taking care of this, but we also know their useless and this might be the single worst idea I have ever had — "

"That is coming up short!" Rochelle utters abruptly. "Principal I want to see justice for Deuce too, but this is not the way. We're not detectives, we're teenagers."

"I am," Devon said sitting next to her.

"You're a high school student," she argued.

"I'm 18, and I got a P.I. license that is actually valid in this side of the county. My father he's a cop, he helped me get it, I have worked with him before. I know what to do. I can guide you through the process. It won't be so different from what you watch on cop shows, only but without the lab."

"Principal Bloodgood, this is insanity, you can't really expect us to trap the person behind this, do you?"

"I just want Monster High to be a safe place again. If whoever did this is after my students, it'd be only a matter of time before he attacks the school."

"Tell me, isn't that the point of the school's Student Security Team?" Devon asks. "To protect our fellow classmates? We must do everything in our power to make sure they are safe, even if that means doing something extreme like this."

"I believe you're right. I must protect my fellow students… All right Principal Bloodgood, I'll do it. But I won't expect much from us."

"Speak for yourself. Now, let's see what the security cameras got," said Devon leaving the principal's office, heading to the security cameras room.

There she questions whether it might be anything there since it was weekend and the school is nearly empty during that time, so probably all cameras were shut down.

"Oh, what a silly girl you are," he said playing the footage from last night.

The video shows Deuce was drooped two hours before dawn, exactly at 4:34 A.M., by a hooded man, driving a van with what seemed to be a Florida State plate. Sadly, the quality of the video and the angle in which the van was parked, makes it impossible to read all the numbers, and the only reason they knew it was from Florida, was because of the great orange emblazoned on it. But the worst part is that the moment he leaves Deuce on the floor, he looks at the camera as though he knew he was being filmed, and no face could be seen, not so much because of the hood — even with a hood, when looking directly at the camera, they should see a glimpse of his face — but there seemed to absolutely nothing in there.

On the plus side, now they had something to work with, something the police didn't have: a timeline and a partial plate. Or at least part of a timeline. They knew he was left on school at four past thirty that night, now they needed to know where he was and what was he doing that night before being attacked by the man in the hood.

Sadly though, the partial car plate would prove to be a dead end. Burning a favor from a local Detective he knew for a few years now, who recently got his promotion thanks to his help, Devon discovers that the car plate belongs not to the Van they saw in the video, but to a different kind of car that was reported stolen three months ago. The car was found burned and with missing parts, plates included. It was evident that whoever stole that car, did it to steal the plates to use them in his own vehicle as a decoy in case he ever got caught on film. The theft and destruction of the other car was simply to fool the police into thinking it was vandalism, or even the act of gang.

The second week of class, the week of the incident, went on as normal as it could, the students tried to speak the less they could about Deuce's attack while the ghouls did their best to cheer up Cleo. It came to everyone's surprise to see Toralei being there for Cleo as well, supporting and helping her with everything she could, as if they had always been the closest friends.

Rochelle and Devon on their side tried not to question her about that night out of courtesy (where courtesy means Rochelle thought it was insensitive to question her about Deuce the same day he appears eyeless on school, so she pushed him not do so), but given they needed answers he convinced Rochelle to go to the hospital after class and ask Deuce directly. The problem with that was that he was still sedated and couldn't be awakened by more than two minutes without him going into shock by the terrible pain of his wounds. He probably had no idea what happened to him!

However, Devon thought of a simple solution.

Using Scarah's telepathic abilities, which she has honed and mastered in the last two years, they could get inside his mind to speak with him directly and see everything that happened to him that night. His conscious mind was _barely_ aware of his situation, numbed by all the sedatives and he could barely believe what happened, his unconscious mind however, was fully aware of everything.

"Deuce, _ch_ _é_ _rie_ , please tell me…" Rochelle began speaking in his mindscape, "show me what happened that night…"

"I… I can't. I can't go through that again," he cried.

At least in his psyche his eyes were intact.

"I know it's difficult for you, _mon ami_ ," she held his face kindly, the way only a lover could, with her face so close to his, a gesture so intimate it would have been shocking for Cleo if she had seen it, "but please try… I… we need to see what happened that night."

"I… I'll try to remember, but is gonna be hard…"

His mindscape was a night sky with memories shining as stars in the distance. To him that memory was like a bad dream, one he had to relieve again. Then everything around them melts into the memory of his night with Cleo; it was vivid memory and began at the heat of moment, with the two young lovers in her bedroom, the torches dimly lit her room just enough for Scarah, Devon and Rochelle to see their silhouette squirming beneath her sheets. Her faint sighs and moaning quickly growing as she —

"Ok, I think we can fast-forward this part," Rochelle suggest.

"Oh, come on. This is the best part," Scarah replies sarcastically.

"She's right. Everything goes South from here," Deuce's unconscious mind ventures to reply.

"When you said it was gonna be hard, I thought you meant something else," she said. "Deuce, we need to see what happened next."

"She's right, I know this isn't going to end well, well this part probably will, but… we need to see what happened that night," Devon explained. "Besides, do you really want me see Cleo naked?"

"Right… her parents came home earlier anyway."

The memory is fast forwarded to the moment he leaves the house, sneaking through a secret passage in her room, hidden beneath her bed, that leads to the backwoods behind her pyramid. He walked for almost an hour trying to find his way home, just before the hooded man strikes. Any other day this would have been a three hours walk, a long walk to anybody, specially at night, but he was willing to do it everyday if that meant he got see Cleo smile. Not like he could do that now anyway, the hooded man made sure of that.

There in his mind, they see Deuce's brief fight up until the moment he was knocked out. Then the image blurs to the moment he was in the basement. His screaming echoed on every wall _No-no NO! Stop! Stop! Please!_ he begged as his right eye was gouged out, and just when the unsub began gouging the left eye, Rochelle begged Scarah to stop and get them out of his mind.

Once they were back to reality, Rochelle couldn't help but crying for what she just saw. Immediately she left the room followed by Scarah and shortly after by Devon.

After their visit to the hospital, Devon, Rochelle and Scarah go to his place on the human side of New Salem, granted that nobody would see them out of their side since his car had smoked windows and he knew the way to get them in and out without drawing unwanted attention, and his parents were in fact in favor of better human-monsters relationships, being prominent members of NUDI, thus they would be welcomed with open arms. The idea was to compare notes about what they saw in Deuce's mind; maybe one of them noticed something the others would not, something that would help them (him) profile their unsub and make a list of every possible suspect.

His house was a very big fancy place, nearly as big and fancy as Cleo's, evidence of how wealthy his father was despite being a cop. Though not for once he mentioned his father became a profiler for the FBI years ago, and made a living and a fortune out selling books about his experience with serial killers.

And whereas they tried to solve this case using concrete evidence, and rational thought with as little magic as possible, Cleo was desperate and resorted to her family's magic items, using the Eye of Eyesis, a very ancient gold necklace that would allow her to see the truth behind all this tragedy.

"What would my sister say if she heard that? Oh yeah, are you bloody insane?" Clawdeen spoke making a bad imitation of that British accent that her sister got after years of living in Londoom, which sounded like a strange amalgam of their natural Brooklyn accent and the British.

She felt it, "Someone's eyes are going to burn here," Frankie sounded.

"Well, what else should I do?!" Cleo cried out.

"Wait for the police to solve it," Clawdeen spoke softly and compassionate, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I got it you're under a lot of pain, but this isn't the solution. Tell me, what are you going to do if you find him? Go after him by yourself? I don't think so. Besides, when have your magic items really worked?"

"Clawdeen is right," Lala followed. "Every time you try to solve a normal problem with magic, it backfires nicely."

"And by nicely, she means it makes things worse, much worse," Clawdeen explained. "Just image how much worse things would get if you use magic now."

"Like getting your eyes burned out!," Frankie insisted.

"Right…" Clawdeen agreed.

"Ghouls… I need to do this… for Deuce. I-I can't go on knowing that the one responsible for this is out there, and you know I don't trust police, they're useless! A gang of teenagers and a dog can do better, or so says my daddy."

Clawdeen sighs deeply and asked "There's no talking you out of this, right?" even though she already knew the answer.

"No, there isn't."

"Fine, then let me do it for you," Frankie offered. "That way, if my eyes burn out — and we all know something like that will happen — , at least I can replace them. You, not so much."

"Maybe this time you get a matching set," Toralei grinned.

"Again, what's the point of you being here?" Clawdeen growled.

"I'm here to be with Cleo. Believe it or not, she's my friend."

"Whatever, give me that," she grasped the necklace putting it on her neck. "Ah, and if I die again, for good… stay away from my funeral."

"Well, that's rude. I didn't ask you to do it for me," Cleo said.

"I wasn't talking to you, it was with her," she glared at Toralei.

Arm folded, she rolls her eyes and meows "Whatever."

"So, how do I use it?"

"Just put it on one of your eyes and it will show you the truth."

"You mean like this?" she placed the necklace on her green eye.

Then the gold eye began glowing with intensity, showing Frankie random moments from the night of the incident, until it settled on an image. "Oh my…" she gasped. "I didn't know you were so limber," Frankie couldn't help giggle.

"What are you talking about? What do you see?"

"Well, now I see Cleo playing with an anaconda," she laughed.

"I didn't know she had one," Clawdeen says.

"Yeah, she does," Frankie grins. "She likes to kiss it."

"All right, cut it off! That's not what I called you here for!" Cleo yelled.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry, serious business here… Show me what happened to Deuce, pretty please?" Frankie pleaded to the necklace.

Obeying its wearer, the eye showed her the moment Deuce's eyes were gouged out.

"Oh my goth! I don't wanna see this!" Frankie cried out. "Show me — show me who did it, I need to know who is behind that hood."

" _Yo **u can** 't se **e the** tr **uth!**_ " a deep voice echoed inside her head as though it was yelling in a cave.

"Why not!?"

" ** _Yo_** _u can **'t han** dle the **tr** uth!_"

"Try me. I wanna see who is behind that hood!" Frankie commanded.

" _If **you in** sist_."

The image becomes that of his aggressor taking off his hood, then an all-consuming darkness flows from where his face should be.

Then Frankie begins to scream in pain, falling to her knees as her green eye bursts into flames.

It was a pain that. She had no words to describe! The panic takes over all the girls.

"Oh my Ra! Frankie, take it off now!" Cleo yelled removing the necklace in panic.

Instinctively, Abbey rushes to extinguish the flame with a rush of cold air from her hand.

"My goth. Frankie are you ok?" Lagoona asked frantic.

"Oh, sure. Is just my left eye that just burst into flames," says with her hand on her eye trying to cope with the pain and pretending it wasn't a big deal. "But hey, that happens all the time."

"Sorry, standard question."

"Don't worry. As I said, at least I can replace then when they burn," she said taking off her burned eye. "I just gotta explain my parents how did I burn my eye. On the bright side, I was right, that thing was going to burn your eyes. So you're welcomed."

"I didn't know it would do such thing, I'm so sorry," she cried.. "But… did you see anything?" Cleo asked with a hint of hope reverberating on her voice, gleaming in her blue eyes, always surrounded by thick black winged eyeliner.

"I'm sorry, but… I couldn't," Frankie sighs deeply and sorrowful avoiding her eyes. "When he took off his hood, all I saw was darkness and then, well this happened," she showed her scorched eye.

"How is it possible? Is the Eye of Eyesis! It's Gods' magic. You can't keep secrets from it."

"I don't know, maybe he's got some mighty magic backing him up," Frankie suggests.

"Now, are we done with magic items to solve crimes?" Clawdeen asked sounding almost as a mother.

"Fine…" Cleo started crying and all her friends and Toralei could do was hug her, saying Deuce would be better, even though they couldn't know.

Doing as his father does, Devon took a board and pins down a picture of the victim, Deuce, with a sketch of the unsub.

"Ok, so what did we learn from his memories?" he asked Rochelle and Scarah.

"We learned our unsub was a male," Rochelle was quick to answer. "And that he can't be petrified."

"Exactly, based on that, we can assume that the attack wasn't random. By the way he acted, he knew Deuce's eyes wouldn't affect him, now who or what do we know is immune to a gorgon's gaze?"

"Gargoyles, demigods and people who looks at them through mirrors," Scarah spoke quickly.

"So we got gargoyles and demigods. The unsub clearly didn't have a mirror, so — "

"Maybe he did," Rochelle cuts him off. "Maybe it was another kind of monster or even a human using goggles with reflective lenses."

"Ok, so it was somebody with prep, that means the unsub is smart or at least moderately clever, somebody who knows very well what he's up against and knows how to handle it. Somebody with knowledge and experience. If he was a human, it could mean he was a hunter," he explained.

"What if it was personal?" Scarah wondered.

"We don't have a reason to think that," Rochelle pointed out.

"Yet. If this was personal, the unsub could have an old grudge against him, maybe somebody he hurt or humiliated in the past. Somebody he offended."

"That's ludicrous!" Rochelle said exalted. "Deuce is the nicest guy in Monster High, he is the nicest guy ever, everybody loves him. He never mistreats people."

"His actions didn't have to be conscious, he didn't really have to offend somebody on purpose. This people are often delusional and think everything revolves around them. Maybe it was somebody who wanted to be friends with him, but when he tried to approach him, Deuce couldn't see him and ignored his presence for whatever reason. He could have seen it as a personal offense and the resentment grew to the point he needed to take his eyes as form of poetical justice: 'You don't see me, well you won't see anybody now.'"

"That is messed up," Scarah whispers.

"On the other hand, if it is a human and not personal… what humans do you know would hold grudge against him or the school so badly?"

"Just almost any human who hates us for being us," Scarah says.

"…Very well, let's narrow it down. We're looking for somebody he might have come in contact with directly, somebody whose life he might have ruined, even though he deserved it."

"Well, there was that guy the ghouls found on that island the other time. The one with a freak circus, only but instead of freaks he enslaved this monster guy and showed him as a freak to other humans," Rochelle explained. "Also, I remember there was a girl who sabotaged that _Ghoul Next Door_ documentary about RADs. For what I heard, she had it in big for us."

"You mean _The Ghoul the Next Door_ documentary? I remember that incident. Her name was Bekka."

"And we also got Van Hellscream, he was turned to stone by Deuce," Scarah added.

"But Principal Bloodgood left him with Ms. Crabgrass in the catacombs," Rochelle counters.

"It could be possible he had a partner or an apprentice. Maybe he heard Deuce was responsible for his comeuppance and decided to avenge him," Devon theorizes.

"Or maybe he set him free so he could do it himself," Scarah suggests.

"That's a good point," he agreed pointing at her.

Looking at his watch, he notices it was already 7:34 PM.

"Ok, I think I should get you girls to your place now, tomorrow when we get to school we'll look for Van Hellscream. I'll call his niece tonight to see if he had an apprentice or a partner."

"You know Lilith?" Rochelle sounded impressed.

"Yes, she… she is my ex."

"Oh, poor thing. I don't need read your mind to see that's awkward," Scarah said with a smirk.

"It was something mutual. We could not help to grow apart, we had different goals and — why am I even telling this to you!? Let's just get you girls home."

9 September

That Wednesday Devon and Rochelle go to Cleo's palace to take a look at Deuce's escape tunnel for whenever they made love and her parents got home too early.

"Thank you for letting us take a look at this tunnel," he says as the three walk in the dark tunnel guided by the faint light of their torches.

"It's ok. I'd do anything for Deuce," she cried.

"So this tunnel, does anyone else know about it?" Devon asked.

"No, only me and Deuce… and the rest of my family."

"Was this tunnel always here?" Rochelle continued the questioning.

"No, my father remodeled the house shortly after we were exposed in _The Ghoul Next Door_ fiasco — eh, don't get me wrong," quickly said to Devon, "I know the guys from NUDI had the best intentions to bring our communities closer but we all know how that ended thanks to that B — "

"Bekka, I know," Devon.

"Exactly. So anyhow, my father got tunnels like theses built in each room, just in case someone wanted to…" Cleo pauses for a moment to hold back her tears, thinking of Deuce's condition again. "These tunnels were supposed to be escape routs, in case anything bad happened."

"So this is a secret between your family and… your servants? I assume they did the remodelations," Rochelle inquired.

"Uh? Eh, yeah, duh. We, the DeNile only use the best of the best, and our servants are the bests there are, especially for building tunnels," she answered, pretending her mind wasn't aloof. "Also, after all these years they're sort of like family."

"I can see you're uncomfortable, and is not just about our chat. Is this tunnel, is it?" Devon pointed out.

"Yeah, well… you wouldn't be a fan of dark and closed spaces if you had lived over five thousand years in a tomb buried in the dessert," she explained, coping with her fear of darkness and claustrophobia surprisingly well for her, "the one reason I'm not freaking out in here is because I know there is a light at the end of this tunnel," retorted as they reach the exit.

"Let's just hope so."

Out in the redwoods, they find Deuce's footprints, they follow them (and his memories) to the abduction site. Fortunately not many people wandered around this section of the woods, meaning no one else could have compromised the crime scene where they find a second set of footsteps that clearly belong to his aggressor; these were deeper and smaller than Deuce's, which Devon felt was quite strange. But even stranger is that the aggressor's tracks start out of nowhere — as if he had simply appeared from the shadows, the way a boogieman does — and then disappear, like if he was never there… like a ghost.

Quickly Devon and Rochelle start searching for more clues without Cleo's assistance despite her insistence on helping, taking one-to-one photographs of the crime scene; Devon uses an L-angled ruler on the shoeprints, which seemed to be the only evidence they found here. Is thanks to the flash of the camera they find the next clue: silvery dust right where the unsub's track begin and green sparkling dust right where they end.

With only a few hours before sunset, they take the way back to the tunnel with several earth samples for analysis. Then the reality of what a fool he is slaps him in the face, he doesn't have a lab to analyze the earth. If he wanted to know what this glittering dust was, he needed the proper equipment, but how was he doing to get it? He was resourceful, but not that resourceful.

The SST kept working on Deuce's case on every gap of time they had between their studies. Devon being the one who pushed himself the most to solve this case, even more so than Rochelle who visited Deuce every night. Scarah on the other hand, did her best to help Devon with everything she could.

Much to his frustration, they quickly run out of suspects: the circus man was still in jail, Van Hellscream was still a statue in the school's catacombs and according to Lilith he had no partner or apprentice that would want to avenge him. Only one suspect was left: Bekka, but he ruled her out too, he knew she was borderline sociopath but she was still incapable of killing and she has been out of town in a long time, so who else was left that could and wanted to hurt him?

On the third week of class, things would become worse for the students of Monster High, this time with the death of Holt Hyde.


	4. Chapter 4

IV

16 September.

The catacombs are the perfect place in Monster High for those who want to hide from others but don't have the ability to disappear. It's also the perfect place for those monsters who love music; in there they can play it out loud without disturbing anybody.

As Operetta discovered and Johnny Spirit before her, the acoustic of the catacombs was just perfect and being such a terrifyingly wide place, stretching all the way through beneath the school and beyond its terrain, there was more than enough room for Operetta to share with Holt so he could practice his D.J. skills without disturbing anybody.

Of course, to hang alone in the catacombs, at night, after Deuce attack would be something idiotic, right? No person with brains would do such thing, right!? But then again, being in an underground maze, who could possibly find him, right?

He was safe protected by the many, many confusing paths of the catacombs. At least that's how he feels as he plays his music in such a high volume that it was nearly deafening. With his music all the noise of the world was gone, when he had his headphones on, he had no troubles or worries, all he had left was the beat and rhythm reverberating all the way through his body. Music was his drug of choice. Whit it he could forget for a moment that one of his best friends was in a hospital bed with his eyes gouged out.

All he wanted was to forget…

Now, Holt's music was unique, not because he thought he was the most awesome D.J. of all — deep down he knew he had a long way to go before that — but because every musician's work is like a fingerprint. He knew his music very well, so the second a different beat starts playing, he realizes something was wrong.

Almost as quickly as he changes into Jackson, he took off his headphones and turned off his music, only that didn't stop the boom boxes from playing a song he was not familiar with. Holt had to admit this rhythm was good, but who was playing it? Who else was there with him that night? For a moment he believes he is being pranked by somebody, or maybe he was being challenged by a ghost D.J. to a music battle? It wouldn't have been a problem if it wasn't because it was starting to get too loud for him! It was a bit — a lot unpleasant, painful even! He wanted it to stop, and it was the first time he, Holt Hyde, ever felt that way about a song, he reckons, as the sound reverberates through his body shaking his lungs as it rung in his ears.

Breathing becomes difficult. He takes his hands to his head trying to block out the sound, but it was useless. Every beat re-echoes loudly in his ears, his head — his entire skull was rattling!; soon his bones began to vibrate — his ears are victims of a stabbing pain, all he can hear now is a shrill sound in his ears as though they were being drilled from the inside out.

My God, he was in real pain, he couldn't take it anymore!

The sound grew even louder and he could even feel his stomach juggle — jumping inside him! Holt felt the sound tearing through his heart and tears stinging his eyes, spilling down his cheeks — they were tears of blood! This damn torturing sound seemed to last forever.

He was crying.

The pain increased, growing too much for him to bear; he falls to his knees unable to stand, his inner ears were so damaged he has lost all sense of balance now; then he began to scream spouting fire from his mouth! He was screaming for help, but nobody was there to help him, the reality of it is that he was alone — he was going to die here alone with nobody by his side!

I don't wanna die alone!, he begged.

He could barely keep a single train of thought in his mind.

Soon his eyes' blood vessels explode as his eardrums pop out; the pain was excruciating — insurmountable! Holt thought of unplugging the boom boxes as he crawled at them, and who would have thought that his last thought would be "that is too loud," just before his brain — and it will surprise a few to hear he had one — was jelled out of his skull by a song?

17 September.

That Wednesday before going into her recording studio (while skipping classes), Operetta explored the catacombs as she has done hundreds of times by now. At this point, she already knew almost every twist and turn of the catacombs, every secret passage and every secret room or chamber there was beneath the school, but every now and then, she would find something new. Given this was her last year at school, she wanted to explore the catacombs as much as she could to discover all its secrets before leaving Monster High, and maybe — just maybe —, give her children a detailed guide of the catacombs for when they come studying at Monster High. On the other hand why would she rob her children of the joy and pleasure of discovering all its secrets all by themselves just as she has?

Then a more interesting question popped into her mind: has there ever been or could there be anyone who could possibly move around the catacombs so freely the way she does? If there was an answer to that question, it might have something to do with Holt's dead body, laying on a pool of his own blood and his brain poured all over the floor as a pink jelly, inside her recording studio.

As soon as she told Principal Bloodgood, this one called Devon and the monster police, and in no time the word about Holt's dead spread all across the campus with as little detail as it could leak.

Frankie, however, wanted to know more about how he died so she begged Devon to tell her what happened as soon as she saw him walking out of the catacombs. He agreed out of courtesy.

"Ok, listen to this: death by decibel."

"What?"

Frankie was confused.

"Apparently, he was killed with music," he began, "something or somebody played a song in a unique pitch, such a high volume that it was literally capable of turning his brain into a jelly that poured out from his ears. In other words, sound was the murderer weapon."

"Oh my Goth!" Frankie gasps aghast — in horror!

"I know, who knew he had a brain after all? That's a shocker, cause he never seemed to have one," Gory said eavesdropping behind Frankie. "Well, his overgrown Smurf version at least."

Blinded by rage, she pounces over Gory hitting her face with her fist breaking her perfect nose, and she would have done worse if not for Devon and Invisi Billy who held her back. Gory plummets onto the ground surprised by the strength of the simulacrum.

"Frankie, don't wanna do this," Invisi Billy said, "you know she isn't worth it. She's just a blood-sucking leech that has no one in her unlife."

"You're right," said Frankie, mustering as much calm as she could, "but you got one part wrong, she isn't a blood-sucking leech. She's a cock-sucking bitch!" Frankie shouted while tears poured from her non-matching eyes, which were not her usual, from left to right, green-and-blue. Having no green eyes at hand to replace the one she lost last week, her parents gave her a "generic" gold eye with black sclera, which made her look even scarier while possessed by this anger. An anger that was so not like her.

Just the words that came out of her mouth astonished everyone, for in all the years she'd studied at Monster High, she never gave anyone a reason to think she would ever say words like those, or that she even knew them.

"Agh, I was just making a remark," Gory said while fixing her nose. "Like the sky is blue, and your lover boy was brainless. Only now is literal."

Frankie pounced at her again, only this time Devon and Invisi Billy hold her before she could touch Gory even though they wished to do so.

Naturally, a story like this takes no time to hit the front page of every monster newspaper in town, which originally belonged to the not-so-relevant-now stolen Nightlife Mosquitoes from the National Mad Science Lab Research story. A big tragedy for monster society, seconded by a big loss of founds for the Monster University on which Clawd started this week, since those mosquitoes were still in larval state and are nearly impossible to find once they grow.

When his parents heard about his death by the police, they were naturally crushed — devastated! If you had ever lost a loved one, you know what it feels like, and if you haven't… then don't even try to imagine it, because you cannot even begin to fathom the pain they feel. There are just no words for it. Jackson and Holt were their one child, their precious baby with dual personality; they tried to have others, but the doctor said she couldn't, that he being born was almost a miracle! The Jekyll-Hyde lineage wasn't much of a breeder, the transformations made it very difficult to sustain a pregnancy, they often ended up in spontaneous abortions, so they were ravished by joy when they held him in their arms by the first time, when they heard his giggles, that beautiful baby laughter. It was the only time they would feel that, the kind of joy only a father and mother know and that no words fit to describe correctly, and to know they could never have another one made his birth even more special.

How can a parent deal with the loss of their one and only son, specially a death like this?!

If it is of any consolation, the police was working harder than when Deuce lost his eyes, thinking there was a connection between his death and Deuce's attack.

Now, I wonder why would they possibly think that?

And Frankie, poor Frankie… Jackson/Holt weren't only one… or… two of her many crushes, they were one… or… two of her beast friends ever since she began at Monster High. They were one — let's say one, for God's sake! — of the many reasons she loved Monster High, they were her best (male) friend, always there for her to listen or make her laugh when her ghoulfriends couldn't, and now they was gone for good!

"This can't be happening," she cried, "first Deuce and now Holt? Why is this happening? And why Holt!?"

"I don't know, Frankie, but whatever the reason is, whoever is behind this, I'm sure he or she will pay," Clawdeen said sitting next to her on her bed. "And as for that stupid Gory… you just gotta say a word, and I'll gut her out. I'm a werewolf; people already assume I'll kill before graduation."

"They might even blame whoever killed Holt," Abbey said.

"Uh. Yesterday you said you had a surprise for Cleo, uh, what was it?" Lagoona inquired in an attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah… Uh, I… I was thinking on what Toralei said the other day at the movies, that you ghouls keep me around for spare parts," she began explaining between sobbing, "and it got me thinking maybe I… well, maybe my parents could help Deuce, give him a new pair of eyes, you know. I asked them and they said it was possible if the damage wasn't so…" then she paused for a moment to wipe her tears. "I also spoke with Neighthan, said he couldn't get his eyes back, but his powers could fix his eyelids and all the damage on his nerves, so all my parents need is a new pair of eyes for him. I was planning on telling her today, I thought it would make things better…" she sobs again, "but now even if he gets his sight back… all he's gonna see is his best friend's funeral," she cried holding tightly a stuffed monkey with dragon wings and pulp head that Jackson and Holt made for her last birthday.

"Well, eh, that is a good thing. I mean, now with Holt gone, things are never going to be the same but with Deuce getting his sight back… oh, who am I kidding? I am so sorry. I just don't know how to cheer you up now," Clawdeen admits sorrowfully. "This is so…"

"It's ok…" Frankie sobbed, wiping her tears and rimel. "At least you're still here with me, for me… doing your best," she tried to smile for her friends. "You're always there for me when I need you. I can't ask more from you."

"Speaking of Cleo, have you ghouls heard about her?" Abbey inquired. "Haven't seen her in all week. I'm getting worried for her."

"She's at her palace with Toralei," Draculaura said, "believe it or not, she's been incredibly supporting for Cleo since all this started."

"I guess their fusion experience really made closer," Frankie giggled sadly. "And here I thought they'd had enough of each other for a life time."

If there was somebody from the ghouls who probably drew the shortest straw from these unfortunate events, other than Cleo, it was Operetta. Surely she hasn't been in any real danger yet, but if she were the paranoid type, she would think somebody was actually looking to hurt her by hurting her two best friends Deuce and Holt. But in this situation she couldn't think of herself as the center of the universe! Instead she would think on how lonely she was now they were gone — wait! She couldn't think that way, Holt might be dead but Deuce was still alive in the hospital. He might not be able to speak with her but he was still there, she could still see him, speak to him and… then what?

What do you do when your best friend is hurt in such a bad way?

What do you say to your best friend when he lies in a hospital bed, sedated 24/7 with his eyes gouged out? Visit time is over, see ya when I see ya? Hey, wanna hear what's on the radio?

If she hadn't broken up with her boyfriend Johnny Spirit, she would go to him seeking for someone who could console her, he always knew what to say to make her feel happy, to convince her everything would be alright or that he wasn't cheating on her with that Catty Noir of all ghouls!

That shameless, double faced ghost and that skank!

Well, to be fair she didn't know Johnny was playing them both, she was as much of a victim of his lies as Operetta. Yet, the worst part is that when she confronted him about what he did, he claimed he knew she was in love with Deuce! She cried it was nonsense, but he could feel she was still in love with him (only she convinced herself she wasn't), and somehow her "emotional cheating" made it right for him to cheat on her.

How absurd!? She stopped having feeling for Deuce since… since…

Ok, so maybe things were complicated with Johnny, and going to his arms (if they were still together) wouldn't be the best idea, and maybe — just maybe — she still had some feelings for Deuce, not like that matters now.

Usually she doesn't like to think of that, "music is my one and only lover now," she said so many times. But since his attack, she couldn't stop remembering the time they spent together and wondering… how would have been things if they had been a real couple?

Alright, so maybe I still love him, she thinks. It wasn't her fault to feel like they were made for each other and that they would have been together if Cleo wasn't there to stand between them.

But fuck it!

It didn't happen then and it won't happen now, because he could never love her back they way she loves him. No matter how much it hurts her, their fate was to be starcrossed lovers. And with Holt, her best friend in all Monster High gone, who did she have left?

Poor Operetta. Poor Operetta I… guess? What she needed now was a friend, somebody that would make her feel for a moment that she was not alone. She still had her ghoulfriends, but as close as they're, they were never as thigh as she was with Holt or Deuce. So who could giver that special feeling she looks for? Or better yet, how could she numb this pain she's feeling? Well, what any other way if not by getting drunk and killing all her feelings?

Sure, they say you can't kill feelings with alcohol, but at this point she was willing to try. Is not like her father would mind her drinking one or two bottles from his private collection, he was in a tour right now and he had hundreds of them after all. How could he possibly notice a few bottles of wine missing from his almost endless supply? Especially since he never drinks them. So yeah, why not give a shot, said a little voice in her head, a tequila shot, flaming shots, body shots! Only… she didn't have another body to drink from.

Luckily for her, Robecca decided to see how she was doing and her metal body was still a body. And what a body!, she had to reckon. She wouldn't mind to drink from her, only she would refuse to lay on a table and take off her top to do so, but it didn't really matter because she was soon to throw up and pass out on her own vomit.

"You… you're a good friend," said tumbling upon Robecca.

"Yes I am," said Robecca while trying to get her up to her room before she passes out.

"Y'know, if I were just a bit more drunk, I would try to stick my head beneath that skirt and play you like a pipe organ," spoke with a drunken accent adding a giddy laugh at the end.

"Oh my Goth…" she sounds bewildered and astonished by her statement. "Rochelle was right in asking me to watch over you. I mean, just take a look of yourself, you are drunk beyond reason! Why would you do this? This is beneath you."

"And I wanna be beneath you!" Operetta laughed. "Y'know, I was always curious…" she began to rant slower, "to know what's under that skirt… tell me, you got all your lady parts in check?" she giggled.

"Well, if you really need to know…" she sighed. "I'm fully anatomically correct, so… yes… I have all my lady parts."

"Oooh… and are they functional? 'Cuz I've never seen ya peeing not even once."

Robecca's glass eyes opened widely, her gear shaped irises spun rapidly, she was steaming uncontrollably in shock thinking Oh mein Gott "…they're functional enough. Now come on, let's get you up to your bed now," said taking her upstairs.

"Hi-hi… Robecca is gonna get me to bed…" she laughed right before finally passing out.

"…Yes… just in time. This is what I meant."

The ranting and indignation of the principal was on big part justified. To have a student of hers murdered in school ground, or beneath school ground, was unacceptable! But she had to understand this was bound to happen, and it was Holt who decided to stay in the catacombs at night on his own. He was responsible for his own dead.

Devon warned her there was no way for her SST task force to stop this murderer in a week and it was more than a possibility for this killer to attack more students. She knew this, but she still couldn't accept it happened and in the school of all places! She has students that came from other countries to study in Monster High and are currently living in the school! How long until he attacks the students in their own bedrooms?!

This madness has to stop now!

"Ms. Bloodgood, we promise you we're doing our best to catch this man," said Rochelle.

Even worried sick, her rocky voice sounded elegant and beautiful with that French accent of hers, Devon thinks.

"Then do better! This is a student who died on school ground!"

"And still you expect us to catch him, as if we're qualified for this job," Scarah argued. "I'm just saying, he got his PI license a few months back, and we've been on this for just a week only, and is not like we got a lab or something like that. How much progress can we have?"

"You… you are right. It was wrong from me to ask so much from you being so young. I just never thought a tragedy like this would happen."

But where she saw a tragedy, Devon saw an opportunity to get the resources he needed. "With all due respect principal, if you want us to do better, then we need the right equipment to work with."

"Ok… I see where you're going with this," she sighed placing her head on her body as she calmed down and started walking around her office. "You need more resources, I can get them for you, the school nothing but well founded, what do you need?"

"First of all we need some place to work, we cannot keep doing this on our homes as if this was an school assignment."

"Fine. There's plenty of room in the catacombs. We can install you there," she said.

"Ok, how about some place where nobody hasn't died recently?" Scarah said with a nervous smile.

"Right, what was I thinking?"

"There are plenty of empty attics with lots of room we can use," said Rochelle.

"Ok, what else?" the headmistress sounded inpatient.

"We need technical support, things as a lab, somebody on a screen who's good with computers, someone who can get us information as soon as we ask for it, like bank states, police records. That might require a hacker, though," he whispered to himself.

"I know someone who's good with computers and can do that sort of things," Rochelle said.

Reading her mind, Scarah asks "Ghoulia? Are you sure?"

"Trust me, she's the only one who can do the job, unless he's got someone better in mind."

"Actually I don't."

"Are you sure you'll be able to catch this murder with all this?" the principal inquired.

Devon remained silent for a minute before Scarah read his thoughts.

As soon as she dropped Operetta in her bed, Robecca texted Rochelle on her iCoffin since she had no one else to call for help. Rochelle was shocked to find Operetta so drunk, she understand her pain but it was still not excuse for her to do such thing.

"Why would you go and do that? To get drunk isn't going to solve anything," sounded Rochelle sitting next to her on her bed.

"I don't know…" replied mournfully. There was no doubt in that she regretted her decision, you could hear that in her voice. Just the feeling of her head spinning as though it was in a blender was enough for her to cry, wishing she didn't have a head at all. "Somebody stop the room!" she cried.

"The room is steady," Rochelle said.

"I know what is like to lose the ones you love, to feel like you got nobody else in your unlife," began Robecca, "but alcohol is not the answer. You're lucky your father isn't here to see you this way, or he'll get you killed for this. You cannot kill feeling with alcohol."

"But it wouldn't kill me to try," she said trying to lay her head down.

"Really? How are you feeling right now?" Rochelle asked.

"…I just can't believe he's gone!" she started crying louder. "Just two weeks ago we were talking about how good it would be if we made a song together… and now he's gone. And Deuce…" if Operetta could have cried any louder, she would have done so, but her hang over was so strong she couldn't.

"I know is hard, they were my friends too, and you know how I felt for Deuce once, but if you think you feel bad for him, think of how Cleo does, or his family," Rochelle said laying a hand on her red head.

"I know they must feel worse than I… I wish I could do something, but… wait a minute!" Operetta said getting her head off her pillow as fast as she could and immediately regretting moving so fast, feeling as though her head was hammered. "What about Gigi? She still has her powers, right? Why hasn't anybody wished for Deuce to — "

"Cleo and I already tried that," Rochelle cuts her off. "She said she couldn't help, her powers are just to weak now. Every wish she grants is smaller and smaller, and something like this… is just too much. I'm sorry," said holding her tears.

"I should've known that," she replied getting her head inside her pillow again. "I wish the bastard who did this pays with his life."

Wishing for somebody's death was something she never did, but she was not ashamed to say that she meant those words. Operetta wanted to see Holt's killer die before her and there was not a spec of remorse in her.

That same afternoon, the principal provided her SST with all they needed. A secret room beneath the belfry that was surprisingly large and completely soundproof — it would be a real annoyance if they had the booming sound of the bell ringing every hour — became their official HQ, and with the right words from Rochelle, they got Ghoulia as their technical analyst to search every bit of information they might need in their investigation. This would be something a bit out of her comfort zone since it would call for last minute changes and searches, something that as a zombie she can't handle very well, but she was willing to do it for Holt, Deuce and Cleo.

Now he just needed one more thing, the help of the one person he knows and hates to work with: Keith. But he wasn't much of the lawful type. Instead, he would rather use his particular wit for his own gain.

Not to mention he knew him to be volatile, self-obsessed, dangerous, reckless, and had an uncanny inability to play well with others, but he also knew he could help him get ahead of this criminal because he thinks like one. As Keith always said: it takes a serial killer to catch a serial killer. All he needed was the right incentive for him.

During his three weeks at Monster High, Keith has seen and heard all kinds of things, some things funny, some others creepy, and some didn't make sense not even in the context. However, the craziest thing to hear was yet to come, and it came from the one he thought was the most rational person: his old buddy Devon.

"I'm not helping you," he refused.

"Come on…"

"Dee-Dee, I know every now and then you come to me with a problem you insist we have to solve and beg me to activate our wonder twins powers and save the day by doing the impossible. And I usually do it, pretending I'm fine with it, but you I don't. We don't exactly see eye-to-eye, and — why would you even meddle in this?"

"Principal Bloodgood hired me to catch this killer and asked me to turn the Student Safety Team into a task force to do so."

Keith remained silent for a moment trying to understand the words that Devon just uttered. "Don't they got like police officers to do that?"

"She doesn't think the police can handle it… She asked me personally to solve this case when she heard I was a PI… sort of."

"And since somebody is killing students, she wants them to do as in all good slasher film and investigate this on their own. That is, that is… brilliant!" he mocked. "Call me when he gets to the slut."

"But at least they got us, the smartest guys in the room with some experience on these things, right?"

"Right…" Keith mulls onto his words for a moment before giving his answer. "…you know very damn well I have no interest in cases that I have no interest in. The only way I get involved is if there is anything there for me. What would that be?"


	5. Chapter 5

V

18 September.

If anyone heard Headless Headmistress Bloodgood hired one of her own students who just recently got a Private Investigator license, and who is barely the legal age to work as one, to catch the person behind the attacks on her students before the police, many would say she finally lost herself. However, that was not her problem, her main priority was to keep her students safe. For that she gave her SST the best equipment she could possibly pay for, which was in fact way better than whatever the NSMPD works with: state-of-the-art computers, lab equipment, even a transparent smart board; people thinks those appear only on tv, but they are real and Devon always wanted one.

Logically it didn't come cheap but that wasn't a problem since Bloodgood had tons of gold stored in the school, in a very literal sense.

The equipment was astonishing and Ghoulia was fascinated with it. Now they could call this a real investigation, but there was something that Keith had to understand first.

"Ok, let's start with the real question, why are you here?" inquired pointing at Scarah with a laser pointer on her face.

"Me?" she said.

"Yeah, you. The girl with the creepy and yet very, _very_ , sexy white eyes… I mean very hot."

"Well, that was both, awkward and flattering."

"Answer my question, sweetie, why are you here?"

"Ah… what do you mean?"

"I mean, I understand why Dee-Dee is doing all this, he's always wanted to be like daddy and his ego would kill him if he didn't solve this case, also I understand principal Bloodgood is paying him good money, isn't she?"

"We haven't discussed that…"

"And I get you are the head of the SST. The one person I know is always glad to have her work taken for _granite_ ," he went on, looking and pointing at Rochelle; Scarah giggles softly, covering her mouth, getting a glare from her, "so you more than anyone in this room, want our dear classmates safe. Which brings back to my question, why are _you_ here? You're not part of the SST, not really; all you were supposed to do was read Deuce's mind and show them what he remembered from that night, but why stay after that?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Scarah asked.

"I just need to know why am I working with a telepathic banshee on a murder case in between class? Am I the only one who thinks is weird? It doesn't make sense in the context! The context… What is the context…?" sighed he, staring at the windows, watching a raven's nest.

"Why are _you_ here?" she countered.

"I'm here 'cuz he made this case interesting to me."

"Interesting to you?" Rochelle said.

"This case is nothing but a big Clue game to me, I admit it," he spoke with a finality that borderlines with indifference. "Now, I'm guessing you're here 'cause you're worried about somebody you love, you fear this unsub kills your boyfriend, maybe? That's why you help even though you don't really know how to?"

"Uh…"

"No, no, is not that. This is about a guy you love, but is all the way around, am I right?" Keith continued, looking at her reactions.

"I'm sorry what?"

"Yeah, I'm getting the whole picture now. I'm just speed balling here, but I believe the reason you're here is because your boyfriend dumped you. You loved him, you even became a telepath for him, I can see it on those creepy but beautiful eyes of yours; that truly says I love you. But he just didn't feel the same anymore, did he? And, after all you did for him, he just ends things with you with no real explanation."

"What?" Scarah says in a sound between a laugh and a wail.

"But no matter how bad he hurt you, you can't stop thinking about him, which brings you more pain. Working here with the SST and Dee-Dee on this case gives you something to do, it clears your mind, gets your dear Billy away from your thoughts, better than dancing in a club. You can correct me if I'm wrong but… you won't."

At this moment all she could think was _Oh my Goth! How could he possibly have known that?_ Because every word he said was right; four months ago Invisi Billy brooke up with her and even to this date she was spite and heartbroken, she couldn't think of it without wanting to cry, and the only thing that's got her mind away from him was working with Rochelle and Devon on this case, even though she couldn't be much of a help.

"How did you know that? Not even my friends know that. How could you even know I was dating Invisi Billy?" Scarah asked.

"Because I am that good. You might not see me, but I have seen the way you look at him on the halls and classrooms. So, do you want to know why am _I_ here? Tell them, golden boy."

"I brought him here to help us with the case, because he has a knack to unveil secrets, but most important, because he can think as a criminal."

"And if you've seen _The Blacklist_ , that's what you need to catch a criminal," Keith said. All that girls seemed confused. "Let me tell you how it works: when cops get one murder, they look for a motive," he began, "which I'm told you got none. When they get a second murder, they look for a connection; in this case it was obvious: they both were RADs and Monster High students. You could also include the age as part of the victimology."

"Aha," uttered Rochelle, who often paid attention to everything Devon said, but Keith… she had some doubts about him.

He seemed to know about this as well as Devon, but could he really help them? Or more like does he _know_ the meaning of helping?

"But when they get a third murder, they look for somebody like Keith," Devon said. "Somebody whose mind is unstable, always concocting a way to kill somebody. Someone whose perception of reality is so screwed up, that he or she can no longer tell from right or wrong, or simply just don't give a damn."

"Eh, question, should we be worried about him?" Rochelle inquired.

"Don't worry, he's harmless."

"I only allow myself to kill in dreams," he said. "Tell me, have you considered the possibility that our killer is in fact the incarnation of a kid's twisted imagination that has become flesh and been going around, hopping from place to place killing people? That would make him impossible to catch, and all our work pointless."

"What?" Scarah said confused.

"…Ok. I am going to tell you this once: this is not Slenderman. We're not dealing with some Internet fanfic aberrations… so now we have ruled out the crazy… How about you give us something we can actually work with?" Devon said.

"Emphasis in _work_ ," Rochelle added.

"Why do you always like to do things the hard way?" Keith moaned. "Those are some really nice earrings, by the way. I like those."

"Uh, thank you," she sounds flattered.

"My mother used to wear a lot of fake jewelry also. I'm guessing it's kinda weird for a ghoul made of rock to be wearing precious rocks; it would be strange even for monsters standards."

"Wow, and the ghouls wondered why you couldn't make any friends here," Rochelle sounded.

"Not just here," Devon added.

"You know, if you were a guy, I would totally ask you about certain bodily functions I'm most curious about, but I'm sure it'd come across as super creepy and wrong if I asked you about them, with you being a girl. I don't understand why people see that as such a big issue; the same is with girls kissing their girlfriends for practice. Why can't we do the same? Of course, I'd need some girlfriends first…"

"Kiki, we're not here to discuss biology or… whatever your last comment was," Devon interrupted him, ignoring the ghouls giggling at the mention of his nickname. "Focus on the case."

"Fine, fine… you ever call me Kiki again, and you'll get your nuts superglued to your thighs as last time," Keith warned him, moving around the re-purposed attic. Devon closes his legs, as to hide his testicles. "Now, we know both our victims suffered two different attacks. Having two different M.O.'s could mean two different killers. We could be looking at a team here," explained looking at the pictures of the Deuce and Holt on the smartboard.

"A disorganized team," Devon adds.

"Or maybe this is a single person. This change could be to confuse the police, but I find it improbable; he's most likely experimenting with different types of M.O., looking for a kill that gives him the highest thrill. He is also very organized and methodical. You see, not only he picks up his victims when they're alone and vulnerable," said to the girls as he began walking around, looking at the evidence board, "but he also knows _when_ and _where_ to attack, in other words, he has watched his victims, studied their habits and habitats."

"Like a hunter… right?" Rochelle ventured to ask.

"Many killers follow this same steps. Scarah, since you insist on being here for no reason but your own… emotional well-being I guess, be a dear and show me what y'all saw in Deuce's mind. Show me the part of the basement."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it," ordered Devon.

Unwilling to get into another argument with Keith, she projects Deuce's memory into his mind, where he studies the scene for almost a minute before reaching to the conclusion they missed the obvious.

"So, what do you got for us?" Scarah sounded almost challenging.

"Could you be a dear and project the picture in all of our heads at the same time? I want us all to see the same picture as if we were in that room, do you think you can do it?"

Uttering a sound between a snort and moan, Ghoulia, who sat silently until now, asks " _Do I have to watch too?_ "

" _But of course you do, deary,_ " he answers in zombie language with surprisingly great proficiency.

"I have never done something like that, but I'll try if that keeps your mouth shut," said Scarah connecting them all in the mindscape, so she can project the memory of the basement in their minds, much to Ghoulia and Rochelle's dislike.

"Ok, I understand you all saw this scene in his head, full of clues… and still you saw nothing. I'm disappointed. Especially on you, Dee-Dee. I expected more from you."

"How so?" Rochelle said.

"Take a look around you, what do you see?"

" _Torture instruments?_ " Ghoulia snarled.

"That was rhetorical. Dee-Dee, you told me you ruled him out as a sadist when you hacked the hospital files and saw there wasn't as much as a scratch on him according to the doctors exams, I mean other than the obvious wounds, meaning he didn't torture him, neither you saw anything here that could give away this particular location. But I'll tell you what I saw: the window above his head which gave Deuce a perfect look of the stars, and the top of some oak threes. Not just any threes, the Slim Shady Oaks, a rare type of three that grows only on the north area of New Salem's monster side. That means this place is somewhere in the redwoods, _very_ close to the second killing site — to the school. Something you could have used to pinpoint the location of this site. Just how many housed are in the redwoods?" he nodded his head at Ghoulia, "Think you can help with it?"

" _With this small… window of opportunity, I don't think I can,_ " she groaned, then he moans disappointed, " _I know I can._ "

"I knew it!" he smirked. "Now, looking at the torture instruments, I wonder what are they for? I read the medical report too — don't ask — indeed none of them were used; other than his missing eyes and a broken jaw his body was fine. He was high in horse tranquilizer, though, you might wanna check that too. Maybe we're looking for somebody who either works at a vet clinic or works with horses… Or simply was able to steal it."

"Way ahead of you, there are no animal hospitals with missing inventory, neither there are people who works with horses in all New Salem," he explained.

"That means he must have gotten the tranquilizer somewhere else. Well, there goes the lead," Keith went on. They discussed the affair so naturally, it seemed as though they were making plans for a trip over hot chocolate, completely forgetting the image in their minds.

"I've been thinking maybe he bought it, but with all the companies that sell it and all their clients… is a long shot in the best case. I mean, we already know he uses a car plate from a different car from a another state."

"I see where you're going, he could have bought it on Alaska and cross all the country with that thing on his pocket, just what I would do."

"So… what were the instruments for?" Scarah interrupted.

"Clearly for the following victims, believe me, this guy is far from over and he _is_ a total sadist who enjoys his victims' pain."

"But you just said he wasn't tortured," Rochelle sounded.

"The real torture was not just taking his eyes, it was the mirror," Keith explained pointing at the ceiling, leading everyone to raise their heads to see the giant mirror lingering upon them. "Something you would have noticed if you had _seen_ what Deuce was _looking_ at."

Rochelle, Ghoulia and Scarah gasp and cringe in awe before the horrible realization that the last thing Deuce had seen was how he lost he eyes.

"I don't know about you, but last time I checked, only hookers got mirrors on their roof. So, either he was giving Deuce an indirect to become a male-whore after this, or the mirror was the real torture. That's why he didn't kill him as D.J., he wanted him to live marked with this moment burned in his mind… forever."

"Then… what would he do with his eyes?" Rochelle dared to ask.

"Most likely, he kept them as a trophy," retorted Devon as they all left the mindscape.

"Or he's selling them in the black market, those things are hard to find and worth a fortune to the right client," Keith proposed. "And let's not forget the irony of these attacks. The gorgon with no eyes. The noisy D.J. boy who dies for loud music, which is a torture of its own…" he explained as he leaned on to a smart board with a map of New Salem, which highlights the school, Cleo's pyramid and the route Deuce took when he was abducted. He taps the abduction point twice, and opens the pictures from Deuce's case: the pictures from the woods, Deuce and the security footage where he was dropped; he moved them to the smart board to his right and then plays the video.

"Don't you find something weird about this video?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"This guy's size," said freezing the video to use a software that calculates his height as approx. 1,70; then opening a photo of his shoeprint, "don't you think this shoe is a bit too big for a guy that tall?"

Devon approaches the smartboard to look at the picture. "You're right," he agrees. "You think he's using different shoe soles on his feet to mislead the police with his tracks?"

"You mean like Unabomber? Yeah, he could be doing that. I doubt he's using a shoe that is two sizes too big for man of his size, or that his feet are that big."

"Unabomber?" Scarah asked.

"Unabomber, also known as Theodore Kaczynski, was a disenchanted mathematics professor turned anarchist," Keith began, "who engaged in a nationwide bombing campaign against people involved with modern technology, planting or mailing numerous homemade bombs, ultimately killing a total of three people and injuring 23 others. He pretty much viewed technology as evil and believed in a form of nature-centered form anarchy."

"So… the shoes are explosive?"

"Explosive shoes? Oh my Glob, are we really working with people?" Keith turned on Devon who only shrugged off his shoulders. "Ok, I'll explain it to you: according to evidence released 10 years after his capture, Kaczynski used shoes with smaller soles attached to the bottom to leave no relayable tracks on the crime scenes as our killer does here. This shows a high level of intelligence, which is no surprise since he has an IQ of 167. He was promoted from sixth grade to seventh grade and even accepted into Harvard. This only confirms that the suspect is smart or perhaps he studied the methods of some of America's greatest criminals. Or maybe I'm just overstating things and this is just a coincidence."

"Ok, the fact you know all that was kind of creepy," she said.

He then turned onto the timeline and mulls staring at it.

Deuce left Cleo's house at 11:20 that night, and was taken around 12:30 — as Devon confirmed in the hospital when he looked at his broken watch (before the police went looking for his belongings, which they should have taken as evidence the first day) when the girls left the room — and then drooped at the school exactly at 4:34 A.M.

"Where are you going now?" Devon asked.

"I'm going to the catacombs to see how Holt died."

With the ring of the bell that indicated the change of period, she promptly left the classroom walking with her hips curving out to a nearly uncontrollable swagger as she gracefully moved one beautiful leg after the other. Those who wanted to get a good look of that, only got to see a purple blur, a faint glimpse of her mini-skirt vanishing out of the door. Just that fast was moving Clawdeen, but is not because she had a good reason to run; she wasn't getting late to any class and she had no appointments, she just wanted this day — she wanted all of this madness to be over! To go to school without feeling it might be the last time she does it, or that it'll be the last time she ever sees any of her friends.

But despite how fast she walked on her heels, he was still able to find her.

"Hello there…" Keith greeted from behind, unseen, sounding as an ethereal voice, startling an already (uncharacteristically) nervous Clawdeen.

"Oh, Keith! Dude, you scared me half to life!" she spoke as Draculaura might speak. Just that much influence had that pink bird of a vampire on her.

"Well, nothing says you are alive as being afraid. I mean, you'd have to be insane not to be afraid of something," he reasoned.

"I guess you're right," she agrees. She was walking to her locker, he followed her very closely from behind, walking almost side-by-side.

"As always. So, how was your day?" he asked, only this time he sounded different; he spoke so softly and kindly into her ear, in such a way that anyone passing by would have thought of them as long-life close — very close friends, and it was evident for Clawdeen he wanted something from her.

"Ok, what do you want?" she stopped him right away with a hand gesture.

"Not much, just meaning to ask you something," said standing in front of her.

"What?"

"I know we only known for like three weeks, and we've only texted with each other so far but, would you come and sniff in the catacombs with me?" said getting a strange look from the students walking behind them and an even more bewildered look from Clawdeen.

"…say what?"

Far in the festering brine of the darkest depths of New Salem's lake, the most beautiful sea monster arched her back as a strong spasm runs all over her lush, youthful and joyful body; her nails carve on the chest of her lover. Her hips moved in the same motion of the waves, as though they had life of their own til they finally ceased with one final thrust that came rather harshly. Never before she felt so alive and so regretful.

Ravished, Lorna lays her weary head on Gil's chest, sighing deeply as he softly caresses her scaly shoulders. Bubbles float up in the water of the cave. The dim crimson phosphorescent light from the worms on the walls made it the perfect place for their love to blossom.

"Woa… That was…"

"Fangtastic?" he asked.

"Clawsome!" she corrected him with a wide smile curving on her green lips, flashing out her fangs.

"Yes, it was," he agreed.

Gil admired her hair silently with a wistful smile plastered on his face, mesmerized by this joyful burst of fiery red tendrils that swim and dance in the water with a bubbling life of their own, as though they wanted to reach and peer the surface only to hide again in the bottom on the slightest sight.

"Then… why do I feel so bad?" Lorna asked, with a sorrow-stricken face.

"I… don't know… this is my fault," he replied in the same mournful tone as Lorna, leaning on his underwater-bed headboard.

"Well, to be fair… it is both our fault. It's not like _we_ didn't see this coming and we both did this."

"True. I — we should have done something… other than this, don't you think? I mean, we shouldn't have let this happen… right?"

Biting her bottom lip, she drops the gaze thinking _No_.

"But… Is not like I wanted any of this to happen. I never wanted to cheat on Lagoona, and is not like you wanted to take me away from her… is it?"

"What!? No! I… I never wanted any of this to happen either, she's my best friend," she cried. "I… It just…"

"It just happened. We couldn't help to fall in love, we just did. But I guess that doesn't make any of this right either."

"Does that make us bad people?"

"No… you're not bad. I think… good people sometimes make bad decisions because they cannot help it."

"So… do you think this was a mistake?" Lorna stared into his eyes as though she wanted to read what crossed his mind.

"I think we shouldn't have done _this_ without me breaking up with Lagoona first. That's what I regret the most. I didn't want to be a cheater."

"And you think I wanted to be the _other_ ghoul to Lagoona?!" Lorna cried, and not even the water could hide her tears.

"Lorna, you are the _one_ ghoul for me, you know it. It's been that way for a long time now."

"And yet, here we are in a cave… hiding from your real _ghoulfriend_ , to have sex on her back."

"Well… This was our first time," Gil said as though it was supposed to make things any better.

"Yes, it was…" she made a pause and did nothing but staring at the light-worms on the cave. "You know what you gotta do now, don't you?" she finally said.

"Yeah."

"Just, please, I beg you, don't break up with her with a text."

"What!? Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I know what it's like — "

"No, I mean, do you really think that low of me?"

"No, I just don't want her to suffer the way I did. You know, it's already bad enough that we did… all of this. Uh, are you going to tell her about us?"

"One heartbreak at the time. Of course, she's always been a smart (not to mention jealous) ghoul. So she might as well suspect, or even know about us already."

"You think?"

"She has."

"Uh…"

Gil hugs Lorna and fondles her shoulder one more time oh-so-tenderly, thinking how could he possibly break up with Lagoona after all these years. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he loved Lorna now, he wanted to be with her and only her. And he loved to see how her green scaly skin turns to different shades under the artificial twilight of the cave.

"You know, when you asked me to sniff in the catacombs with you, I thought you were making a bad pun," Clawdeen said to Keith as they walk down one of the many — many! — dark underground passages with rows of steady skeletons, taking off a distraughtly large spider-web off her smooth and silky mane.

"And why would you think that?"

"Because everything you said to me when we texted last week was a bad joke."

"And still, they made you laugh, didn't they?"

"Maybe some of them," she admitted.

"And for the record, some were not jokes, just comments."

"Right… so why is it you want me to sniff Operetta's studio again?"

"Because Holt died there."

"I hear you making a comment of something not funny, but not giving an explanation," she scowled.

"Right. Ok, I'll draw you the picture. It is no secret now thanks to whoever writes the Gory Gazette, that Principal Bloodgood hired a PI to capture whoever took Deuce's eyes and you don't have to be a genius to see the one who killed Holt is the same person."

"Aha."

"Now, guess who happened to be the PI cracking the case?"

"Wait, you are the PI?" Clawdeen asks in shock.

"Ha! No, that's our dear golden boy Devon, because as all good son of a cop he is, of course he's got a private investigator license for his 18 birthday. But, he's kinda useless without me so he asked me to help him with this."

"And… do _you_ have a PI license? Because you don't —"

Immediately he cuts her off placing his finger on her heart-shaped lips saying "Honey — "

"Honey?"

"— the things you don't know about me, could fill a moon-sized cemetery. So we better keep it that way. Now, last time we texted you said you have a super nose."

"Well, not to brag, but — "

"No time for that. I need you to sniff Operetta's studio and catch some essences for me."

"What for?"

"To know who was there other than Operetta and Holt."

"I thought he died by loud music."

"The sound came from a song he was listening to, and how do you think it got there? Somebody had to put it in the console. Clearly our perp somehow got into the studio at the time Holt was playing if not before, so he must have left some of his essence behind. And that is where you, deary, come in," he tapped her nose with his index finger. "If you get us that essence, we'll be one step closer to crack this mysterious unresolved mystery, but most important, I will prove him once again, I am better than him," he explained with a smirk all over his face.

"And here I thought you were of the quiet type when I first met you."

"Ok, how about this? You help me with this here, and I get you somewhere pretty."

"Somewhere pretty, eh? Ok. Now we're talking," a coy smirk formed on her lips only to fade away almost as fast as it came. "Cleo tried to do the same thing, you know?"

"She wanted to take you out on a date? Did you keep it secret from Deuce, or he was on that ship too?"

"No… what? No. She tried to find out who took Deuce's eyes. Why would you think that? What were you thinking?"

"She gave me a vibe like one of those chicks. Maybe I just don't like her because of that bossy attitude."

"Welcome to the club. Of course, she's not even close to being a detective so she used one of her family's magic items which, as always, backfired nicely."

"Do tell. Let me guess, it burned her eyes."

"Close enough. Frankie thought something like that might happen so she used it for her and well, let's just say she's lucky only her left eye got burned, and that she can replace them."

"That's why she has the black eye now?"

"Yeah, but don't get used to it. She's getting a new green eye today —"

"She… couldn't get a matching set?"

"No. Why is it now everyone's got it with her eyes not matching?! Geez!" she cried without even knowing. This was so unbecoming of her, she has always been the strong I-never-cry kind of girl, but how can she be strong, knowing her loved ones can die at any second and she can do nothing to stop it?

"You know, if this is too much to ask from you… you just gotta say it and you can be in your way. You don't have to be here if you don't want to," he said with an arm around her, holding her face so gently, sounding as understanding as he could.

"No. I want to do this. I want to stop this before it gets worse," she sniffed whipping her tears. "Is that… I don't want to think of what would happen if any of my ghoulfriends… I want to protect them, I just don't know how."

"I just wanna get paid," explained speaking with an unsettling indifference, getting a glare from her. "But if you help me catch this bastard, you will protect them. Then I can get you out for dinner, maybe a little dancing, see what happens," he continued, making her giggle just a bit.

"Wait, so you were being serious about it? Are you… really asking me out!?" she asked in shock, not because he asked during such grim time, but because he asked at all!

Most guys can't even dare to talk to her, let alone asking her out on a date.

"Well, I'm not asking you out, I'm just offering you a good time in retribution for your help with this."

"That is pretty much the same."

"Fine, call it whatever you want."

"I'm calling it a date."

"Great! So we got a deal!"

"Wait, I didn't say I'd go out with you… I'm just not in the mood, y'know?"

"Well, clearly not now. With what just happened to your friends… that would be of bad taste," said pretending to actually care about it. "But maybe… in a near future, when there's not a psycho on the loose…"

"We'll see then," said with a coy smile.

Is not like she _didn't_ want to go out with him, but he was right. With her friends being targets of a serial killer, possibly a hunter, how could she possibly think of dating right now?

They walked for another ten minutes before finding Operetta's studio, yet, it seemed to them as an hour long walk due to all the twists and turns of the very-very dark and convoluted catacombs, and when they were finally there, it came to their disappointment to find out there were only two essences in the studio: Holt and Operetta's.

He _did_ find, however, other interesting clues in the studio that he was looking forward to rub all over Devon's face.

"What is this?" Devon asks looking at the sample of green glittering dust Keith brought from the studio.

"It's boogie sand," Keith explained. "Mixed with what I think it's ectoplasm," said playing with the gooey substance on his hands.

Devon was confused.

"Boogie what now?"

"Boogie sand."

"The boogie man uses it for his work," Clawdeen explained. "Each one can change you into a different monster."

"And you know this how?"

"Some of the ghouls and I had an adventure, we used it to go ghost and save Spectra in the Ghost World last year," said Clawdeen.

"Actually I was talking to him," he glared at Keith who was still playing with the ectoplasm.

"Black market," said Keith.

"Of course," he shook his head back exasperatly, rolling his eyes, not knowing what else he expected from him.

" _Boogie sand_ … _That's what you guys found on the abduction site,_ " Ghoulia zombie-moaned, looking at the analysis of the samples Devon took with Rochelle.

"You found boogie sand and you didn't think it was important to tell me?" Keith snarled.

"I just got the results when you were down there."

"Yeah right."

"I can't believe I didn't recognize it. What do you think the sand is for?" Rochelle asks.

"Isn't obvious?" Keith inquired. "You saw Deuce's memory, the guy wasn't affected when he used his stoning gaze and now he leaves ectoplasm behind. Clearly the unsub is the vengeful spirit of a gargoyle D.J.! No? Not feeling it? I'm sensing a maybe over here," said waving his right hand towards Ghoulia and Scarah. "Not buying it? Ok, then maybe he used it to turn into a gargoyle so he would be immune to his powers," he began explaining, "then used a different one to change into a ghost and sneak into Operetta's studio undetected. Once he was there, he was able to play his dirge."

"Ghoulia, search for place where you can find boogie sand and see if you can get me a list of those who bought in the last three months."

" _I got it,_ " she moan-snarled.

"Do you realize this man can be anything he wants, becoming pretty much untraceable?"

"I do."

"Good. Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to go out, this many people make me uncomfortable."

" _Excusez-moi?!_ _We_ make you uncomfortable?" Rochelle asked.

"Is nothing personal, I just don't like to be around people, is so annoying. By the way, I've been thinking, now the police is finally after him he might start escalating on his attacks, like a lot. I'm talking of a full-flesh slaughter at the _Maul_ or a Club. Doing things in a rush to end with as many monsters as he can…"

"Are you suggesting —"

"And killing within a week's span, using magic dust to turn into different monsters and exploiting his victims' weaknesses, what kind of killer would do that? Only a certain type killer is that methodical. So Rochelle, to answer your question: if there is another kill in the next twenty four hours, then our killer is a hunter and not just a serial killer. But I know you already thought of that, didn't ya?" said as he slowly puts on his sunglasses, and takes his hands to his waist.

" _What?_ " Ghoulia turned at Rochelle, Scarah and Devon.

"I hoped it would not be the case…" he sighed. "I still hope is just another psychotic killer, and not another racist bastard."

"Hey, you gotta keep hope alive, or else how am I supposed to kick it in the face?" Keith smirked, then turned around. "Wanna… grab a cup of coffee, or anything?" he asked Clawdeen before exiting the room. "You look like you could use a drink of something… black, or cold."

"Ah… sure, why not?"

As soon as they leave the room, Rochelle asks Devon "What are you going to tell Bloodgood?"

"That we got a hunter attacking the school, she has to protect her students, especially those who live here."

Over at the NSMPD, the station had become a circus in the last 24 hours. Phones were ringing at desks all day long. Most of the officers were busy taking phony or probable phony confession on phone calls from every nutcase taking credit for Holt's case; more new suspects came in for interrogation than they were released, the seriously ill were sent to the asylum for "treatment." It was getting harder by the hour to attend all the phone calls and prisoners they had.

Around 05:24 PM, they received a package with a DVD inside. They play the DVD in the Captain's office. The video shows a secret meeting of ASOME, or Ancient Society Of Monster Elites for those who prefer the long term, in regard to the attacks to Monster High students, suspecting it was normie hostility in response to its recent decision to accept new human students (a decision they frowned upon while spiting at it to say the least), claiming this was an act of war, thus they intended to discuss what their retaliation should be, when a hooded man breaks in the conference room right after a power shortage and single handedly slaughters every single monster present with only a handgun and a silver claw-glove. The attack took place in one of the most prestigious clubs for monsters in New Salem and apparently it was from a security camera that was not connected to the main power grid during the blackout. The video astonished everyone at the NSMPD.

The video's timestamp marked the event as of an hour ago.

Once at the crime scene, the authorities were unable to identify the species of the attacker since the werewolves officers could only perceive the smell of the ASOME's members and their guts. As far as they were concerned, he seemed to be either scentless or his scent was covered by all the blood. Given there was nothing on the video that gave away any specific trait of the attacker's species other than human-like, they're unable to narrow-down a list of suspects to begin working with, which still would be very long since ASOME has mustered a large roster of enemies on both sides along the years. However, they felt confident enough to assume this was a hunter's act.


	6. Chapter 6

VI

18 September.

Clawdeen agreed to Keith's offer for coffee and went to Scar-Bucks with him, and just as in the _Maul_ , his face was covered all the time.

"Hey look, they got _latte_!" Keith said excited, looking at the neon sign that said… Open _Lat_ e.

"That's not a _latte_ sign, is says open _late_. You need an extra 't' for _latte_."

"Nah, I don't feel like having tea today, I want _late_ ," he continued.

"Are you trying to be funny to cheer me up?"

"Uh…, depends, is it working?"

Clawdeen let's go out a small and quick coy smile while her arms still folded. "A little bit, yeah. I guess."

"Then I totally didn't confuse the sing the first time, and kept pretending I was right," said with a grin.

"Actually I would like some _latte_ too," she admitted.

"An order of foamy coffee for the beautiful lady on the way," said forming on the line with her standing next to him. "You can wait in a chair if you want."

"No, I'll… I rather stay here with you," said taking his side on the line.

Luckily for them, it moved fast and they got their coffees in minutes.

"So… how's the coffee?"

"Fine I guess. Is cinnamonish as I like it," said looking prone, drinking from the bendy straw.

"Mine needs a little beer," said pouring some black beer from his hip flask on the coffee, careful not to be watched.

"You bring beer in a hip flask to school?" Clawdeen asked surprised.

"So? Like you don't."

"Eh, no, I don't. I drink, but am not an alcoholic."

"Hey, I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a rebel! Making my own fate, instead of waiting for things to happens a royal would."

"No, I'm pretty sure if you bring a hip flask to school, then you are an alcoholic on the making."

"Said the one with no issues ditching school."

"What?"

"You telling me you didn't notice we went to the catacombs in between classes and ended up ditching school?"

"Uh… maybe… No."

"Well, we did."

"Damn it, I left all my books there," she moaned. "So, that prediction you gave Devon…" she wanted to asked since they left.

"Is more likely the case. He wants it to be a serial killer, but I know this is a hunter."

"But how can you be so sure?"

"Let's say I got a hunch."

"That's not how detectives work."

"Actually it is."

Clawdeen sighs deeply, gazing at her coffee, as though she might find the answers she's looking for in the brown, hot foamy beverage. Then her phone rings, it was a text from Frankie, saying she got her new eyes, and grounded by a month for burning the other eye.

"Could you tell me again, how did she burn her eye?"

"You might laugh even though is serious."

"Very likely."

"Well, I feel you might find out one way or another, so… We were at Cleo's pyramid, this was right after… you know. And she was desperate, and just like Bloodgood, she doesn't trust the police, so she went on and used one of her family magic items, the Eye of Eyesis. It is supposed to show you the truth of everything, but she felt something like this was going to happen. Long story short, she only saw Cleo and Deuce having sex and the when he was in a basement where… but when she asked to see who did it… her eye just bursts into flames."

"Wait, you said the Eye of Eyesis?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Keith said, only his voice wasn't in his usual uninspired but jocular, or kind as he sounded during this conversation, but instead he sounded as though upset.

"You didn't ask. Besides, what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? When you said magic item, I thought it was common magic, not a godly item," said, this time he sounded really upset.

"Ok, afraid of sounding ignorant, what's the difference?"

"The difference?" asked as though she didn't know the most basic of life. "A normal magic item uses common magic that can be done by anyone, and as such anyone who has the basic understanding of magic can block it, even humans, but a godly item, it uses a different magic. Literally it channels the power of a god so mortals, monsters of humans, can use it almost as though it was their own, give it comes with its limitations."

"I'm still not following."

"I'll put it to you this way, the kind of magic required to block that item is impossible to be used by a monster or human, the only thing that can cockblock a god, is another god. In other words, whatever we're dealing with, is protected by a god. That assuming is not an actual god," he explained. "But well, I'll have to text him later," said getting back his good manner.

They finished their coffees as they kept talking about anything that made her feel better, mostly about all the good times and adventures she had with her friends, that was until the coffee shop closed; he then gave her a ride home in his bike.

19 September.

ASOME MEMBERS MURDERED BY UNKNOWN KILLER, the headlines read on the front page the next day. Everyone in the monster community was in shock, they might have not been the nicest monsters to humans and/or other monsters, in fact some RADs agreed they had it coming. But the escalation of the attack was terrifying! First high-school students and now some of the world's most powerful, fascist and ancient monsters in the world, what would come next? Politicians…? Wait, that was already covered in this attack, but that was a question they feared as well as they needed to answer, what would be the next step of the _Unknown_?

"So the press gave him a name?" Keith asked when he read the newspaper.

"Sadly so," Devon said. "On the other hand, you were right, our killer _is_ definitely a hunter, only his real aim is ASOME, not the school."

"Or Freddy Kruger."

"Wait, why is that a bad thing they named him?" Rochelle dared to inquire.

"Giving them a name makes them sort of a legend, it motivates them to keep going forward on their mission," Devon explained. "It aggrandizes their illusion of greatness."

"By the act of killing, of taking a life, they literally see themselves as someone with the power of God, someone who can control life and death," added Keith. "This… might very well be the case."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I spoke with…" he mulled for a moment, "whatever hot wolf chick's name was again."

"You mean Clawdeen?" Rochelle said.

"Right… Clawdeen… are you sure that's her name?"

"I don't know, are we talking about the same pretty wolf girl with long auburn hair, big golden eyes and a waist thick as her arm that you left with yesterday?"

"Yeah! That same one."

" _Oui_. I'm sure that's her name."

"So you say."

Rochelle sighs exasperated with her hand on her forehead while Scarah giggles at their exchange, it was clear for her he was just teasing Rochelle.

"Anyway, I spoke with her last night; turns out Frankie used a magic item to see who attacked Deuce, but turns out… Unkwon blocked its magic. And that is not any magic, it was godly magic, and the only way to block it is if you are a God."

Not believing he was being serious, Rochelle said "You're joking."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Well I ain't."

"I believe him," Devon said.

"You do?"

"I do. He might be crazy and have even crazier theories, but their often right. Ok, theory number one," said Devon, "our hunter is actually a trickster. That would explain the ironical deaths."

"A trickster? What's that?" Scarah asked.

"A trickster is a deceitful spirit, a god of lies," said Devon.

"Well, more like demigods, really. We got Loki in Scandinavia, the Norse god of luck and lies; we got Anansi in West Africa, the spider god of tales. There is dozens of them, the list goes on," Keith explained. "They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick. Most of them are just, most of the time, not-so practical jokers."

"You mean, like letting a gorgon eyeless, or killing a D.J. with music?" Scarah asked.

"Exactly. These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, they feed from it, making people and gods miserable for their amusement," he continued.

"Usually though, Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg with their sense of humor — their deadly pranks, double meaning, things like that. That would explain why and how he could take on ASOME. Though it doesn't explain why targeting students first, maybe he needed a little chaotic snack first."

"And you know this because?" Rochelle continued.

"You kidding? I love those guys, they're my… non heroes," Keith said.

"Sure they are."

"And my father had a case with a Trickster once. Now as I was saying…" Devon resumed, "theory number two: he's an avatar, somebody working for one of these god, in the name of and bestowed with the power of a god, which explains why they're such a weak joke and why killing students first."

"And theory number three…" Keith went on knowing what he had in mind, "he is simply calling for the power of a god to carry on a personal vendetta against ASOME. In both of these cases that would mean your friends are not the real targets, just casualties… sacrifices."

" _Sacrifices?_ " Ghoulia asked in awe.

"In order to satisfy a god, a primordial god as a trickster, and receive its blessings you need sacrifices. Humans and monsters alike used to do it in ancient times to spare their wrath, ensure a good year, a harvest, or victory in a battle," Devon retorted. "In this case, is a private war against ASOME."

"The first one to fall was Deuce, the athlete, a leader, the alpha male of the school! He was the perfect guy, and if this were the middle ages, the number one hunter or warrior. He probably was meant to die, but he gave him for death instead of outright killing him, or it could be all he needed was his pain so he spared his life," Keith explained. "Then he went for D.J. Holt who is arguably worth two sacrifices, but only one offer: the erudite, being Jackson's side. With this two sacrifices he got all needed to fight this ASOME cell and kill them."

"Oh my God!" Scarah gasped.

"Never forget that," said Keith.

"But the circle is not complete, am I right?" Devon ventured to ask.

"No, it isn't."

"Wait, so there'll be more deaths?" Rochelle cried in horror of what was being said.

"More sacrifices, yeah. The circle of sacrifices includes: the prostitute, the athlete, the erudite, the fool, and the virgin," Keith explained. "If the gods take your offer, they'll grant you any favor you want."

"Wait, according to what you said, then he must have skipped the first part," Rochelle reasoned.

"Not exactly. The order is irrelevant so long as a virgin dies or suffers last," Keith continued.

" _Then, who's going to be the next victim?_ " Ghoulia dared to ask.

"I don't know, but as for the virgin, I know I'm not going to be thrown into a volcano, I can tell you as much," Keith said. "I don't know about you, ghouls. Ever thought your lack of sexual life would jeopardize your actual lives?" he laughed, getting a glare from the ghouls. "I don't understand, you said people likes humor," said to Devon, who takes his hand to his face sighing exasperatly.

"You know, it is very offensive you assume such thing," Rochelle said angry.

"So I was right by assuming you're _not_?"

"Well —"

"You know, when I first met you I thought 'she's French and nigh-immortal, she's probably got more laid than she can remember and done guys made of rock,' so I wouldn't even try to hit on you, but then I thought that would stereotyping and so wrong. Thanks probing I'm always right."

"What?! No! I mean — I'm… I hate this guy!"

"It's ok, dearie. Cultural perceptions vary, most people would call me a slut too. Important thing is we're in a safe circle here. You can tell us all about it, go ahead, I'm listening," said in a nearly mocking tone, sitting in front of her with something like a smile on his face. This grin inside his hood, the way he looked up at her with his eyes in dark shadow, as if two holes were staring at her, he surely was awkward — even uncomfortable to look at, and so obnoxious.

Devon shakes his head and looks at him thinking _You freaking serious, man!? This again?_

Peeved, she claims "I'm not telling you a damn thing about that."

"…Yeah, this baby is broken," he turned around. "Well, if you don't wanna be the virgin sacrifice, I'd recommend you to get sexed ASAP. But keep it to just one guy… or girl. Whatever you girls are into. I don't judge, I got an open mind, and schedule."

"You got an open mouth, have you ever thought of shutting it?!" Rochelle boasted.

"Feisty… I like that on a girl," claimed, winking at her.

For whatever reason, she felt how her gray stone face blushed, turning into a grayish shade of pink.

" _So_ _…_ _what are you going to tell Bloodgood now?_ " Ghoulia moaned.

"I don't know… to put all her C, D, and F straight student away with those sexually active and those who are not in a locked room?" Devon said.

After mulling into it for a few seconds "…that could work," Rochelle agreed. "Of course, we'd got to put them on separate rooms."

"And in which room should we put _you_?" Scarah sounded with a smirk.

"If any of you ghouls need any help getting into the active room, I'm willing to help you with that," said Keith getting a strange look from everyone. "I'll take the bullet for the team."

"Good, how about in your scalp?" Rochelle added.

"See, this is why I don't help others, they never appreciate what I do for them."

"Oh, I think you've helped enough," Rochelle glared at him.

"Keith, pretend you're not crazy for a moment," Devon said, "what do you think is the profile?"

"You're the profiler, you tell me."

"I say we're looking for a male between his late twenties to his late thirties. Probably he has never been married and is involved with monster hating groups. He's extremely paranoid and can't stay in a single place, often changing residence and even from city."

"Good. Ghoulia search for police blotters, any person with a record of aggression against RADs in the last five years to be specific."

" _That would be a long list_ ," Ghoulia snarled.

"Narrow it down to those on Massachusetts," Keith said.

"That won't work. We already know he is a nomad. If I were to do something this complicated, it would have to be very personal to me," Keith added. "Maybe we're looking for somebody whose life was ruined by ASOME, someone as a cop or a journalist performing an investigation that lead to something very big that could've expose them and their plans. If he got too close to the truth, they might have taken retaliation by destroying his career. That could explain he sent them a video, he wanted everyone to see them as they truly are: weak and pathetic old men trying to control a world they don't know, a world they don't belong to anymore."

"That makes no sense," Scarah said.

"I know, what a crazy sense right?"

" _It actually has some sense,_ " Ghoulia argued. " _You don't call the power of a god of lies and sacrifice innocent people to destroy a fascist monster organization all by your own, unless you carry that much hate. And how do you discover their existence in the first place? They are a secret organization, only a very few know about it_ — _we wouldn't even know about them if they hadn't tried to take over the school. You should know that better than anyone in this room._ "

"This person is now unable to sustain a single job for a long time and only subsists from mid terms jobs, and tries to stay out of the radar, search for those with a property in this state first," Devon went on.

" _There are three hundred twenty one matches,_ " Ghoulia yelps. " _Three hundred twenty more than I thought, we're gonna need a lot of time to check every suspect_."

"I have a better plan, we go to the Palace of Emperor Khan, we give him one of our most beloved possessions which he can make good money of in the black magic market, in exchange for new fake passports. We leave the States with new identities and start over wherever we want, with whoever we want… and leave everyone else here to die," Keith suggest in an I'm-real-about-this kind of tone.

Peeved, Devon says "…no."

"Well, I tried. I guess we'll do it the _hard_ way," he grinned at Rochelle.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I got some classes to attend," Scarah said.

"Don't worry, you can all leave, we can afford to miss some classes," Keith said, rolling his chair next to Ghoulia.

" _What? But I don't like to._ "

"Like that will ruin your grades. Don't worry, we'll do this fast."

"Great, call me when you get something."

Right after that, Devon, Scarah and Rochelle leave the room.

"So… in which room should we put you?" he said once they were alone.

" _Depends,_ " she moaned with a grin.

"He's a jerk," said Rochelle, looking for her Clawculus book.

"Who?" Scarah asked.

"Who do you think? Keith, he's is… exasperating."

"I think he's kinda funny… and not bad-looking," she giggled. "You know he just likes to push your buttons, don't you?"

"It doesn't help his case. He's just a clown."

"I'm actually starting to like him, like…"

"Like how?"

"I think I'm falling in love with him."

"Oh my Goth, why!?" Rochelle asked in shock.

"He's soooo dark, brooding, and angsty!"

"…Are we talking about the same Keith?"

"Yeah. I've seen his mind-self, trust me, he might seem… a joker, but most of those jokes, he does it to hide how he feels inside. Though you should consider that as good thing, Dee-Dee told me he only acts that way with those he likes, otherwise he would just glare at you like if you killed his dog."

"So… basically that's him being nice with me. How do I get him to stop?"

"In my experience… if you want a guy to stop talking to you, just go out with him for a while, have sex and then let the relationship sink into mediocrity, monotony and boredom, until he feels like never talking to you again."

"Aha… just out of curiosity, what about Devon."

"He's a nice guy, and his mind-self… is not so different, he has a clear image of who he is, but I can't deal with guys that keep so many secrets, like a lot of secrets. I think he's having a rough time."

"What do you mean?" Rochelle asked intrigued.

"I mean, when I make a psych connection with him, is so hard because his mind is so tight… and organized, and he's got all this secrets he hides, and they feel like the kind of secret he'd kill you if he tells you about," she explained. "Luckily, he isn't like Gil."

"Gil? Did you read his mind? That's an intrusion of privacy!"

"Ok, first of all, you scolding me or that? Ha-ha. Priceless!" she laughed. "And secondly, I didn't read his mind; I just can't help to see people's mind-selves sometimes, and Gil. Poor guy's got a secret for a long time, now I don't ever wanna know what his secret is, but it's eating him from the inside out unlike Devon whose mind is steel-solid, but then again all minds are different and we both know his forte is not his brains," she said.

"Truth. Honestly, I never understood what Lagoona saw on him. He's a nice guy, and always seems to care about her, but I always felt she could do better," admitted Rochelle, "but that's how love works, and she's very happy with him. I hope whatever secret he's hiding, it doesn't ruin their relationship."

"Speaking of which… you should totally take the first step."

"What? I-I don't know what are you talking about."

"Sweetie, knock it off. I don't need to peer your mind to see it, you shouldn't wait around for him to ask you out, you should totally make the first move and go for it," she advised her as they cross with Lorna McNessie who moves in opposite direction, heading to Gil's locker, near the pool area.

Moving silently, she approaches him from behind, jumping on him as a shark, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hi there, sweetie!" she said with a large smile on her face, then kissing his tank-helmet as if she could kiss his cheek through the glass.

"Lorna!" Gil said in shock, quickly taking her arms off his neck. "Sweetie, what are you doing? Somebody could have heard you?" he whispered, holding her hands, praying nobody saw them.

"Ow, come on… there is nobody here other than us," she smiled. She had such cute fangs, so sharp and straight. It was truly worthy of being in every picture, and reflected such innocence, such joy… she was so full of life.

At times he wondered how could he do this to Lagoona, seeing Lorna on her back, but when he saw her smile, he remembered why he loved her, she was just… she was the _one_ , he understood that now.

"I missed you last night," she said.

"I know, I… missed you a lot last night."

"So… how are we on… this whole thing?"

Gil sigh deeply, leaning on to his locker.

"I don't know. I wanted — I tried to break up with her last night, but… doing so, after all these years, with all that's going on now… I don't wanna make any excuses. I don't want to keep lying anymore. Is just… not easy."

"Hmn… Gil, sweetie, I'm going to make you a question, and I want a straight answer," she sounded serious.

"Ok…"

"Have you… done it with her?"

"You mean… yes…" he admits with his head down.

"Ok… not going to ask you for how long," she said looking prone. "Just tell me something, do you think of me when you're with her?"

"Well… I, uh…"

"If you say anything that starts with a T, I'm out of here."

"Uh… why do you wanna know anyway?"

"I just… I don't know. I guess I just wanna know how much of a horrible friend I am," she cried.

"No, no," he said, fondling her shoulders, "don't say that. Look, if anyone is to be blamed here, that's me. I'm the babes' magnet. I should've known this would happen," he joked.

Lorna sobbed, whipping her tears while trying to smile.

Guilt was killing her.

"You're right, you're the one to blame," she said, letting go out a small smile.

"There is that smile I love," said Gil, taking her kindly by the chin, smiling lovingly at her, the same way he used to smile at Lagoona. "Look, I gotta go to Ocean-ogre-phy class on second floor, and I'm running late, so…"

"Yeah, I got it."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I'd kiss you but…"

"I got it. The tank. See you at lunch then," she said as he leaves for class.

Alone in the hallway, she wonders how she ever got to this…

A few months back…

You know what? We don't need the drama.

 _Unknown_ was ready to strike again.

He looked himself in the mirror and slicked his long black hair; he already had a hooded jacket that covered all his head, but he liked to brush his hair anyway.

On the other hand…

It all started that night during summer. Gil wanted to go to the movies with Lagoona, but in last couple of months she has been so distant and cold, that it was a fair question to ask if they were still dating, and when he called her to go out that night, she wouldn't even put up an excuse other than "I don't feel like going out." It was the premiere of _The Winter of those Gone Before_ , a movie that he expected, would make her feel better, but she hung up the phone before he could even say its name. It was only a coincidence Lorna met him at the theater that night.

She was planning on watching the remake of _The Breakfast Chamber_ alone when he saw her and asked if he could watch it with her. They both enjoyed the movie quite a lot, and up until that moment, they were only beast friends, and wouldn't think of changing things. But fate had other plans.

They kept going out as friends, and got to know even better in those three months than in the last year, and in a short time, they became closer than ever, even confidants. They got along so well and it felt so natural, they felt like they could trust each other with almost anything.

He even confessed to Lorna how he fears Lagoona might be cheating on him. She has been so distant, and he couldn't think of a reason why.

Having been in a similar position, Lorna was able to know and understand how he feels. She feared her boyfriend Finn cheated on her too, before he decided break up with her by text saying "I'm sorry I couldn't call you, I don't need the drama."

They loved each other's company and didn't realize their innocent friendship was blossoming into something else.

Seeing how things turned out, isn't it that ironic?

What really changed things, though, was Lorna's presence in what could have been the worst moment of his life.

When his mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, she was always there for him to support him, to give him shoulder to cry on. She was the one person he could lean onto, whereas Lagoona was absent, and barely thinking about him. It was something he'd always be grateful for, it meant everything for him.

His mother got better, but his relationship with Lagoona was terminal now.

And she sensed that, almost as though she had a sixth sense telling her that her relationship was in peril. It was then when Lagoona changed back to girl she was, the one he loved, and called him after spending almost all their vacations without even texting him. He told her about his mother and she did her best to be with him again, to be what Lorna was for him in the last month And it became obvious something had changed between them. She wouldn't dare to think they were dating on her back — he could never cheat on her, but she feared they might, so she did the only thing a girl blinded by jealousy could do: she confronted Lorna.

The two girls had a bit of an argument; Lorna was terribly offended by this outrage. How could she dare to blame her of wanting to steal her boyfriend? Of wanting to kiss him?

She was just being a good friend, doing what she should have done as his ghoulfriend, being there for him when he needed those who love him.

Lorna leaves angry at Lagoona who admitted she was right, she had been a terrible ghoulfriend to him and had no excuse for this. She owed her an apology, but Lorna wouldn't talk to her for a week.

Yet, the same day, Gil goes to visit Lorna. He proposes to go take a swim together, it always calms her down; the warm water of the lake was soothing, as though it washed off all her problems.

Now she was no longer mad, she confessed all that happened with Lagoona. They laughed at how ridiculous it was from her to think that. But then he said how beautiful she was and how he enjoyed having her around, to see her smile, hear her giggle. Then she admitted at times he made her feel this warm feeling in her stomach, just like he was doing right now with his words…

They quickly pull their lips apart!

They had kissed each other and didn't even realize it! One second they were talking, and the next… their lips came together. They should have regret it, but truth is they didn't.

It was time to admit, they might have been friends in the surface, but deep down, they had become more than that. They were in love, and there was no point in denying it.

And now we're here, with Lorna wondering what will become of them. Hating herself for kissing her best friend's boyfriend the same day she said she wouldn't. Never suspecting Toralei has heard their conversation while she was on the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

VII

19 September.

Keith and Ghoulia spend an hour searching for people who have lost their careers or been affected in any way, when investigating too deeply into ASOME in the last five years (police officers, detectives and journalists), which was a long list to say the less, but sadly no one on the list matched the profile; mostly because almost everyone has died in a very gruesome way and those who were still alive had either abandoned the country or lived a very, _very_ low profile life to keep their families safe; it was a fair guess to say ASOME doesn't like too much the idea of having people meddling into their business, especially humans.

 _It is a miracle they haven't killed the ghouls after exposing Sylvia_ _and ruining her plans to take over the school_ , Ghoulia thought. Although she could guess right that they spare them for being monsters. Right now, she couldn't wish more for Hexiciah's time teleporter to be functional again, how she wished that stupid little earthquake that destroyed his workshop in the catacombs to have never happened, that way she could go back in time to save Deuce from Unknown and stop him before all this started. That way Jackson and Holt would be alive, Cleo wouldn't be suffering, none of them would be in danger and most important, she would be attending classes instead of looking at pictures of awful murders and severed bodies that, shamefully, she admitted to herself, teased a very dark and primitive instinct that has slept deep inside her for pretty much her entire unlife. But then again, if there is anything she's learned about time traveling movies is that changing the past might not solve things at all, it could even make it worse, I mean, how would it work? Is it time plastic? Once she alters the past, she creates a whole new timeline where nothing bad ever happened. Or is it static? Going into the past to change it only ensues that the events she wants to stop actually happen?

Maybe she was just digressing too much.

Whatever the case might be, this is how things are now, and there was no way to change them, she had to accept that catching this killer was the only thing left to do now, but the track has gone cold.

By the beginning of the second period they were frustrated, hungry and tired, they needed a break and a bite. Thus, Keith decides to go out for some snacks, leaving Ghoulia playing _Triangle_. Hopefully it may cheer her up.

But more to his frustration, some of the snacks on the vending machine didn't seem apt for human consumption; however, there was one thing almost all species enjoy: chocolate! So he bought almost fifty dollars on _Snickers_ and M &M's. How he loves green M&M's and Cree Summer's voice on the commercials, until this day he can't see a green one without getting both, hungry and aroused.

On the way back upstairs, he caught a glimpse of something he doesn't see every day… with his pants on: a girl crying on a desk.

On his experience, they usually cry after sex, but that is another thing, he guessed.

His common sense told him to stay away from this, keep himself out of whatever her problem is, _is not ours!_ But every now and then, he makes the terrible mistake of actually concerning about others, so he does the one thing he can do in a situation like this.

"There, there…" he said padding the mournful girl on the back with a broomstick; looking at her closely he realized she was hand-sewn with skin the color of mint chip ice cream and jet-black hair with snow white stripes. Or maybe they were supposed to be silver highlights? "Everything is gonna be fine…"

He didn't recognized her at first since he couldn't see her face, neither he could see her hips correctly from that angle, as this was his preferred method of recognition when it comes to girls. An idiosyncrasy of his that saved him from confusing identical twins more than once.

"Huh? Keith…?" Frankie cried.

"There is no need to cry… uh. We can still be friends."

"What?"

"Sorry. I don't know what else to say when a girl cries in front of me."

"W-what are you doing?" Frankie said between sobs.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trying to cheer you up," he explained.

"By padding me on the back with a broomstick?"

"Well… I've never been good with crying girls, specially 'cuz they never tell me what are they crying about. Although I often assume is because they realize having sex with a random guy to solve their daddy issues never works… or because they don't like it when I say 'is not me, is definitely you. Now put your sister on speaker, I'm breaking up with her too.' Of course, I don't think that's your case," he explained. "…That's not your case, is it?"

"What?! No, I don't… I'm not sleeping with anybody…" she said, whipping her rimel-stained tears off her face.

She was already using her new green eye.

"So… is it the lack of sex what makes you cry?" Keith went on, throwing the broomstick, daring to get close to her, even though his common sense screamed _GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!_. "Cause believe me, you're a beautiful girl, I'm sure you can solve that whenever you want."

"No! It's got nothing to do with it," she continued, holding back her tears.

"Ok, then I'm really out of my wheel house. Look, I'm not good at making people feel better," he confessed.

"Don't tell," Frankie swept, siting straight on her desk, whipping the rest of her tears and sobbing…

"Yeah. I usually avoid people who are emotional for no reason. That's why I always prefer ending by phone or with birthday card, I don't need the drama."

"Wait… You broke up a girl on her birthday?"

"Not really, just a card I took from the pharmacy, I thought the cute cat would soften the blow so she wouldn't cry for no reason."

"Well, if having two dead friends and one in a hospital bed with no eyes is no reason to cry for…" she went on.

"Oh, that's why you're crying for… Yeah, never been further out of my wheel house. But I guess that's a real reason to cry for."

He ventured to sit close to her, even though he didn't really know what to do to make her feel better.

"You really care for them, don't you?"

"Yeah. So much. And I just get so emotional by the thought of them being in danger…! and… I'm… so scared right now," she cried, jolting blue electric sparks from her neck screws. "All of this… this whole situation with… Mr. Hood or whatever his name is… It puts a lot of negativity on my bolts…"

"Wanna talk about it?"

"What's there to talk? Two of my friends are dead, one might never get his sight back, I mean, sure, we are planning to perform an eye transplant but we don't know for sure if it'll work, and even if it does, that psycho is still out there! Who knows who'll die next? When did everything in Monster High become so…"

" _I know what you did last summer_?"

"Yeah. Before this… all our problems would always end up in a party, you know?" Said, looking prone.

"I hate parties. In my experience, they can cause more problems than they solve."

"And now… I don't feel like I'll ever be able to enjoy one again. Not without them…" she sobbed.

"Don't worry, you will. I know it hurts, believe me, I do, but that what you're feeling right now it's life. A part of it at least," he said.

"Well I don't like this part of life. I want it over," she cried.

Keith scanned the room until he found an empty candy box on the trash can. Without saying a word, he got up and picked it up; the box was unfolded.

"Think of yourself as this box," he began folding it back, "right now you feel empty. You're broken, torn, but you're still here because you have people who love you, friends, family, people who wouldn't let you fall apart, am I right?" he asked putting the box on her desk; somehow it seemed to be folded again, good as new, only but still empty. "Now, I know right now, this doesn't seem possible, but once all this is over, in time, this pain will go away, the wound will close and you'll find something new to fill the void you're feeling," —he closes the box and began to shake it— "this will be just an awful memory, and your life will be full of joy again, flowers, colors, and all things nice," —then the box began to sound as though it was full of candies again. "Life will be as sweet as you remember it; sure, you will miss those who are gone, but you'll see this experience will make you stronger, and you'll be able to cope with their deaths. You will see the bright side of life again, and… think positive. And you seem to me like the kind of girl who is full of positive energy, right?"

"Yeah…" she said in a sound between a cry and a laugh.

Keith opens the box and to her surprise, it was full of gummy bears again. "Here, a sweet treat for a sweet girl," said giving her some of his gummy bears.

"Thanks," said with a coy smile, grabbing some red bears. "You know, I don't get why Clawdeen complains so much about you. You really seem a nice guy," said eating one.

"Well, I had four pot brownies for breakfast today, so I'm on what you a call a _reggae_ mood"

"But… what if I can't get over it?"

"Don't worry, in that case the pain will become something beautiful."

"What?"

"Resentment," said with a grin. "But you won't be alone on that, because misery loves company."

Frankie made a grimace.

"Eh?"

"And you will spend the rest of your life making others miserable as well, because you don't feel they deserve to be happy…" he said in a jocular tone, then his face quickly changes, as though he had remembered something important. "Because you want them know your pain… I'm sorry, I gotta go because… what the hell, I don't need a reason… Say no to drugs."

Then as sudden as he came, he leaves the classroom, leaving a confused Frankie behind.

Meanwhile on the Biteology Lab, Rochelle partnered with Devon and took the opportunity to make him a big question.

"Can I ask you a question?" she began.

"Yeah, sure."

"Why do you put up with Keith?"

"Oh, um, you know. Because we're friends," he said.

"Why?" She went on.

"Wow. You ask really hard questions. Look, I know he can be aggravating and unabashedly off putting, but you have to remember he's not doing it on purpose… most of the time he is not doing it on purpose. It's just how he is, is _who_ he is," he explained. "You know how it is, is the same thing with you girls and Cleo."

"Um, I guess you're right," she admitted.

"Oh, but he's also loyal, and trustworthy and we have fun together. He might scowl at strangers, but he's always happy to see his friends. Of course, he doesn't really have that many, but once he forms a bond with somebody he will follow them no matter what."

"You know, you're describing a dog, don't you?"

"Well… He actually bit me once. But in his defense I came up behind him while he was eating."

"They hate that."

They both share a small laugh.

"He is the smartest person I've ever met besides me, you know? He is a little broken and he needs me. I guess I need him too."

"Why's that?" Rochelle insisted.

"Well… You will not let this go, will you?" Devon said, then his phone vibrates. "Aw, geeze!"

"What?"

"Nothing, I got to go looking for him. I told Ghoulia to text me if he was gone for more than ten minutes."

As soon as he reads the message, Devon leaves the classroom, barely saying a word to the teacher.

Once in their meeting room, Keith tells him "We got the wrong profile."

"What do you mean with that?"

"I think our unsub is not on this for something like losing his job, in fact every conspiracy theorist who digs into them dies as soon as they take a shovel."

"Terrific," said exasperated.

"Then it got me thinking, historically when a society feels threatened they strike back and kill whoever threatens them, which is exactly what they did, and maybe in doing so, ASOME took somebody he loved, a girlfriend a wife or husband, his whole family! And now this man who didn't even know they existed is out for vengeance."

"Ok, so you're saying our unsub lost somebody to ASOME, and he decides to take them down by sacrificing teenage monsters to a deceitful god so he can gain the power to literally slaughter them with a single hand? Let's pretend you're right. Why them? Why this school?"

"I have thought about it too, sadly I can't think of a good reason why."

" _Guys, you should see this,_ " Ghoulia moaned. " _I was keeping an eye on the police's progress, don't ask, turns out they have had twenty three confessions so far._ "

"What?" Devon asked looking at her screen, a pinkish transparent laptop, reading the signed confessions the police has gotten in the last twenty four hours.

"Those are probably phonies, same thing happened with the Black Dahlia case in 1947," Keith explained.

" _I also thought they could be fake, except all of them described how they took Deuce and killed Holt with the exact same words. Everything to the smallest detail. Only thing they didn't confess is the use of the boogie sand and where did they take Deuce, but aside from that everything_ _matches_ _._ "

"Ok… I'm officially out of theories now," Keith looked at Devon.

09:52 AM

"Are you kidding me? He padded you on the back with a broomstick?" Clawdeen asked Frankie who just told her about her little encounter with Keith.

They were waiting for the Monstory class to start.

"I know, he said he was trying to console me," she giggled. Her eyes were completely bloodshot from all the crying and her rimel was gone.

"What? Uh… ok… that's how he was trying to make you feel better? By sweeping the sadness off you?"

"I admit I was confused too, but…"

"Are we even talking about the same Keith — you know what? That's actually totally like him. He's a walking oxymoron." Clawdeen stated; that word she learned it from her big sister.

"Yeah… I wouldn't know that, but he just wanted to cheer me up, you know? He was just… trying to be nice."

"Emphasis in trying."

"I don't know why you got such a low image of him."

"'Cause I've worked with him, and he can be a pain."

"He's not such a bad guy, his people skills only need some polishing."

"He also needs some people skills first. Ever pondered upon the fact you ate candy from a trash can?"

"No. He made them appear in a box he found in a trash can, which isn't the same… and that's as far as this conversation goes," Frankie said.

Sitting to Clawdeen's right was Robecca, saying "At least you didn't get drunk to get over it…"

"Oh my Goth! One time… and you won't let it go," Operetta cried, sitting to Frankie's left.

"You wanted to drink Tequila off my belly to deal with Holt's dead. Think I can let it go as easy?"

"You're mean and magnetic!" She snarled at her; Robecca looks at her with convoluted expression. "My friend died, and I think I'm still hangovered. Why am I being punished?"

"Can I get some context about… whatever this argument is?" Clawdeen asked bewildered.

"You don't want the context, you don't need the context. You can't handle the context!" Operetta said, almost pouncing upon them.

Even more baffled, Frankie and Clawdeen grimace and utter an "Ah?"

"She got drunk when she found Holt's dead body in her studio," Robecca explained them.

"Yeah, I figured as much," Clawdeen said.

"And that's all you need to know. And if you keep pushing I'll tell Scarah to show up on your window tonight," Operetta said cutting, leaning on to her, almost getting over Frankie.

"Okay…" she said.

"And on that note… are you still drunk?" Frankie said, getting her off her face.

"…shut up and keep eating your problems." She snarled.

"Ok, I think that's enough," Robecca said, ending what could be a terrible, needless fight. "What do you ghouls knows about Cleo, I haven't seen her all day? I'm worried she might try to do something stupid again."

"I got a text from her, she said she isn't be coming today," spoke Clawdeen. "She wanted to spend as much time as she could with Deuce at the Hospital."

"Her parents don't mind?" Robecca asked.

"Don't think they know… You know, Abbey said she was taking Heath to the hospital today to see how Deuce was doing. We should all go with them," Frankie suggested.

"Yeah, we should…" agreed Clawdeen, sighing and looking prone.

These few weeks have been terribly stressing for Devon, and the pressure of capturing this hunter was killing him. He felt completely useless when he gave Bloodgood his first report on his progress; they had found some clues not even the police has yet, but the fact that he and his team haven't made any progress in identifying the man behind the hood meant they were stuck, the trace went cold; this was shortly before Jackson/Holt's death. But even afterwards, they still needed more clues, sadly the only way to get any of it was with another attack, and when he saw the news about his strike on ASOME, it made him feel this might be beyond his tether.

This, however, gave him a big clue as to what his plans are and who he might be, and he felt he had all he needed to form his profile. But having Keith telling him they got the wrong profile and all who matched it were dead was a mayor setback and a real bummer.

The one thing he didn't want to do was telling the principal he couldn't solve this case, there had to be something else he could do? Something he has been missing, a detail or a clue that could help him know who is _Unknown_. He is obviously playing with the police. Just now he understands this is some sort of sinister Blue's Clues game for him, the clues he had found were left on purpose for the police, some to confuse, some others to lure them, but they were all left there on purpose so he must have left a clue behind that would actually lead them to him. But what was it?

His actions didn't make much sense, but everything he's done is to send a message: look at me. Fear me. I am God. He wants the attention all to himself, to make history as the greatest monster slayer there has ever been by taking down the highest and mightiest monsters, exposing their secret organization, and letting the rest of the world know they can't do anything to stop him; that is his ultimate vengeance against them for whatever wrong they did to him, but why involve the students? Couldn't he get the sacrifices from anywhere else?

Is there a special meaning or reason why he chose Monster High's students?

Maybe he wasn't a hunter or even a human, maybe it was another monster who was wronged by them, or a member who was expelled and wanted vengeance, now _that's_ irony!

A monster hunting monsters.

Maybe he needed a different angle to solve this…

And what worried him even more, is that his attacks on the students could only get more frequent until his circle was complete, the next attack on school could be today, and what could he do stop him if he didn't even know what his next move would be?

The one thing to his favor, is that _Unknown_ has no idea he is after him, he can fool and elude the police because he knows they're onto him, but he doesn't know about his team. And the good thing about being a private detective is he doesn't have to warn anyone before shooting once they finally get him, or so he thought.

For it appears that Headmistress Bloodgood has other plans.

"Principal, you can't get me out of this case!" He said.

"I must to, Devon. I want this criminal behind bars… but after seeing that awful video from the news… I'm afraid I can't allow myself to keep you looking for this man. It is just too dangerous — way more than we thought it would be. I can't risk my students and that includes you…" Bloodgood sighed, then took off her head and set it on the table. "Asking you to take this case was a dangerous idea since the beginning, dangerous and stupid, but still I went on with it because I believed it could work, but now that I've seen what he is capable of I realize I should have never put you into this…"

"I got into this the moment he attacked the school!"

"Listen, one thing is a student who is kidnapped when he is out of the school sneaking out of his girlfriend's house at night and then dropped here. As much as it breaks my heart, I can't blame myself for that."

"And Holt…"

"He was breaking the curfew… but even then I should have kept a more watchful eye over him, as with all my students… His dead weights on me, which is why I can't afford your service anymore, sending a student after a serial killer —"

"With all due respect," Devon cuts her off, "if I do not keep looking for him, three more students will die. And I neither want or can let that happen."

"That is admirable from you," she admitted, "but this is not your problem to solve, this is something the police should handle."

"Well, now it is. And in case you haven't noticed, the police of New Salem are deeply stupid, on both sides of town," he said with a flush of defiance that seemed unlike him.

"Devon, I appreciate your relentlessness, I wish there where more students… more people like like you, but let's be honest, you have been on this case for almost two weeks now, have you gotten any close to identify who this man is? And… how do you know three more students will die?" She asked.

"I admit I am not as close as I would like to be, but I have evidence — conclusive evidence that not even the police has, or will have, regarding what his intentions are. Is clear he is after ASOME, but the reason why he is attacking the students, is because he is using them as sacrifices," he explained.

"What do you mean sacrifices?" She asked in shock.

"Me and my team have enough proof to believe he is sacrificing young monsters to a pagan god to call for its blessing, in order to carry on a personal vendetta against ASOME."

"Why would you believe that?"

"Based on the evidence. It all makes sense, the irony of each attack: leaving Deuce eyeless and killing D.J. with sound, and the fact he was able to conceal his identity from a godly artifact, an ancient one… Not to mention we know he has access to a magic dust which allows him to turn into any monster he wants in order to go unnoticed or become immune to the power of his would be victims, and even blend among monsters, which would allow him to study his victims' habits without them ever knowing they're followed. Now tell me the police knows about that."

"And how do you know all this?"

"Because… I got a good team, and I know we can solve this. We only need more time… which, ironically, is of the essence," he admitted looking prone.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because that is recent evidence, as from today, and I thought it might be too unpleasant to hear the students are being used as…"

"It surely is disturbing… but promising. You certainly have come far, but sadly time is not something we can afford, he could be preparing to attack the school tonight as far as we know. As you said, time is of the essence."

"And asking me to withdraw from this case is not going to stop him," he added. "In fact, we should be preparing — warding the school, keeping students safe for his next strike…"

"How do you propose that?"

"Uh… you don't want to know."

Of course, the idea of locking all the students away in different rooms wasn't so bad, but the principal would never agree to such plan, and there were so many flaws on it, and so, so many students…

Is then when he realized, this is the other angle he needed. Instead of trying to discover who he is, they could capture _Unknown_ red handed, just when he is about to attack another student.

How — why he did not think of it before?!

This plan seemed crazy and more like something that would come out of Keith's head, it was too risky, but maybe, _maybe_ it could work…

But there was no way he could get away with it. He couldn't put another student in danger to capture a serial killer, especially if he doesn't know who'll be next.

Maybe the best thing he could do, is to go back to the board and work on a new profile, a more accurate one and perhaps, then, he will identify who he is and maybe even the next victim before he strikes again, but after failing how he's done so far, he wonders if he could get it right this time… or on time.

Every time Gil enters the water, it's a world of calm and happiness for him. The ocean is his home, and he always thinks with more calm and clarity the deeper he goes, but this time he swims rushed to the surface. He swims desperate to go up and out of the water, because if he doesn't, the woman he loves will die.

Whoever took her left a note for him, and now he had minutes left to save her.

He rushes out of the water, desperate to find her. But there was something wrong with him, the water was unbreathable for him! And now he was suffocating!

How ironical it was, he lived all his life in the ocean, but when he knew his loved one was in peril, he swum as hard as he could to save her… and all that hard swimming was only to die on shallow waters.

"…Keith… Keith wake up," Devon said, shaking off his friend. " Kiki."

"Ah! What? I didn't shoot no deputy!" He said startled, slowly coming back to his senses. "Man, I told you if you ever called me that again, I'll glue your balls," said rubbing his eyes, then putting on his yellow sunglasses again.

"You fell asleep. You got a bed, you know?"

"I wasn't sleeping, I was meditating," he yawned.

"Aha. And my break up with Lilith had nothing to do with you, right?"

"…I didn't sleep with her, if that's where you're going to, and you know it. She hates me."

"That has… never stopped them before."

" _Touché_. It was doomed to fail anyway, you love monsters, she is a Van Hellscream, you were never meant to work. Do we got any beaches here?"

"What? No. Why? You hate sun. Last time I took to the beach you almost burst as a vampire… and then pretended to be a shark and got the place closed."

"Come on. You were on that too. Just thinking who would be the next victim as you asked… It would be very ironical if… the guy with the fishbowl on his head swum to the surface to save his girlfriend only to die on the shore."

"What?"

"You know, this guy," said padding his touch screen, where he read the profile of all the students with grades lower than C, showing Gil's profile.

"You mean Gil?"

"That's his name? I propose a game, every time we find a guy or ghoul with a bad pun for name we take a drink. We're going through almost all the students here so we'll probably need a few boxes, you brought your dad's credit card, didn't ya?" said getting a glare from Ghoulia and Scarah. "Hey, don't hate the player, hate the game… or your parents for not wanting to use real names."

"Technically that is his nickname," Devon clarified.

"My point still stands," said Keith getting up the chair to grab a cup of coffee which he mixed with half a cup of sugar. "So, how you guys doing? Any idea who's gonna be the slut and the virgin?"

"No, you see, unlike you we don't like to think how to kill our friends," Scarah said.

"You ought to learn how to compartmentalize. Did I use that right?" He asked Devon.

"Close enough. And for the record, it would not work," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because… beaches are salt water, and Gil is a sweet water monster."

"What's the difference?"

"He only breathes and swims in lakes and rivers, he can't swim in a beach, not for too long. Which is somehow an irony on its own," Devon explained. "But maybe we should keep an eye on him."

"Oh well, it wasn't such an ironical situation anyway," he sighed, drinking his awfully sweet coffee which seemed more as a brown and grainy mixture rather than coffee. "Sweet and hot as I like it. How about lakes?"

" _There are like three lakes in all New Salem,_ " Ghoulia moaned. " _I can tell him to stay away from them._ "

"What do you got about the confessors?"

" _There is nothing there. Nothing links them, they work in different areas, different places, they live far from each other. They share absolutely nothing in common,_ " Ghoulia explained.

"No, they're linked. I know that," Keith insisted. "I know the unsub links them somehow, something the police would never think of…"

"Keith, we are not in the mood for one of your crazy theories — this is not the moment for ideas about parallel universes or whatever," Devon said exasperated.

"Really? A multiverse? That low you think of me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just —"

"No, I'm thinking of something else, something like an extra corporeal experience. Somehow our killer has projected his psyche into this people, and they lived the things he did so strong and vividly, they believed to have actually done them themselves!" He said with growing excitement.

Scarah giggles.

"You really like this kind of weird stuff, don't you?" She asked.

"Yeah, I love freaky stuff. But with my luck it must have been something simple like mind control, randomly hypnotized people to keep the police off track."

"How sad," Rochelle said sarcastically. "The question is how did he do it?"

"You know, I could read their minds and see what truly happened, tell you if they were hypnotized or something."

"That's a good idea. Ghoulia, give Scarah the names and addresses of all those who confessed. I'm sure they won't be held for long, the D.A. can't form a case where more than one suspect has the same confession, specially with twenty three suspects who said the same thing word by word," Devon explained. "Go check on them later after school."

"Roger that," Scarah sounded.

"Roger that? What are you, a Marine?" Keith asks.

"No, I just… like how it sounds. I got a cousin who's a Ranger, though."

Smirking, he adds "Really? What generation?"

"You and Rochelle are going with her," Devon added.

"What? Why?" He whined.

"Yes, why does he have to go too?" Rochelle followed.

Scarah murmurs to herself a faint "Yes! I mean… I got no problem."

"I think a better use of my time and brain would be to stay here and figure out who are the most likely to die this week."

"I agree. His plan sounds perfect. Let him stay here, please," Rochelle stated.

" _Even if by any chance you guess right on who the victims will be, what are you going to do next? Catch him with a rope and a web?_ " Ghoulia asked.

Keith mulls on it for a moment…

"You, know I would need a few more things, but I could actually make a good Freddy-like trap that works."

Devon gives him a peeved look, "I think she was joking, you cannot go after him alone — or set him a Scooby-Doo trap."

"Oh, come on, bare with me —"

"As always," Devon said to himself.

"Just get me a loan chair, a toaster, and a bowling set and meet me at a mirror house with the stupidest kid in school. I assure you we'll get that sucker on a web, unmasked, confessing and yelling 'and I would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for these middling kids.' I mean, when have my plans failed?"

Devon shakes his head and looks at him almost with a look of shock.

"Your plans always fail. They fail and worse of all, they get me into trouble, except when that's the main goal, in which case they succeed."

"Please. Name one time I have —"

"You talked me into wearing pantyhose at school to fight bullies," he began, "you talked me into tickling that policeman, you talked me into getting Bar Mitzvahs, you talked me into drinking fish grease…"

"Come on, it was flavored."

"…you talked me into selling my kidney," he went on, ignoring his comment, "you talked me into gluing myself to that train at the zoo — you remember that?"

"Oh, yeah; you ran pretty fast!" Keith laughed.

"I HAD to! And you know what all your plans end up? Me getting into trouble and naked for something stupid that came out of your mind because you thought it would somehow end up in tons of money or chicks, or whatever."

"Wow… I told you to name one plan that's gone wrong. You really need to work on your listening skills. Besides, if you weren't so busy being depressed, you could have profiled him better, and we would have his face and name by now," Keith went on, drinking all his coffee.

"That… that was uncalled for."

"Whatever," said looking at the information that Ghoulia got about the house where Deuce was taken.

According to the records she gathered last night, there is only one house in the Slim Shady Oaks area that belonged to a harpy named Katherine Harper who died seven years ago. The house was abandoned ever since — then it hits him! It was so insane not even he could see it!

"Spit it out kid, you look like you got an idea."

"The house — he sent that people to the police station to make contact with the police, his version of sending a letter to the cops and the press to confess his crimes. Something many serial killers have done that when playing cat and mouse with the cops like the Zodiac or UnaBomber; his method is more complicated and risky though. Here he's telling them how he kidnapped Deuce and killed Holt with utmost detail, but nothing about the house. I wonder why? What is so special about that house that he wouldn't let the police know about it?"

"You think it must have a special meaning for him?" said Devon, arm-folded.

"More than that. Ghoulia, what does it say about the owner of the house? How did she die?"

" _I… don't know… I was afraid of what I might find if I looked into it, okay?_ " She mumbled apologetically. " _Look, the things I've seen in this screen today, are so awful that they are literally impairing my ability to laugh,_ " she said. " _How can you guys do this?_ "

"We've learned how to compartmentalize. Look, I understand. Is not an easy job, but at least you don't do this for a living; now I got a hunch about the owner, how did she die?"

Ghoulia hacked the file of her case. According to the police report, she was found on her bed, her whole body torn apart, with the words TRAITOR written on her wall with her blood; the case was never solved for lack of evidence, but it was believed during the investigation that ASOME was somehow involved.

Scarah and Rochelle cringe in horror with the photos of the crime scene.

" _That settles it, I'm never laughing again._ "

"Oh my Goth… do you think he did this?" Rochelle gasped aghast, taking her _petite_ clawed hands to her mouth.

"Could be the place of his first kill," suggested Devon.

"I don't think so… this was seven years ago. And I think I already know who is behind that mask. Here it says she was married, to whom?"

Ghoulia began to type on the keyboard again, and in seconds, a new window opens with information of her husband. The man's name was Richard Wayne, and much to their surprise, he was a human!

"Now, stop me if you've heard this one before, a monster hunter walks into a bar and sits with a group of men complaining about their wives, one says his is a bitch, the other says his is a witch, then he says you think that's bad? Wait till you met my wife. She is a harpy! _Qué_ _irónico_ _!"_


	8. Chapter 8

VIII

10 years ago.

The first time he saw her was on New York subway train. She was an icily beautiful woman with a serene, unfeeling face and a slender figure. He knew the second he saw her eyes that she was out of his league, why would she even notice him? If he ever tried talking to her, it wouldn't end well. In fact, he could already picture his life as an awful book: Richard was another man of many, a man with a unique dream. And that dream was… whatever her name is!

Oh my God, that's awful!

That's what the critique would say, _I_ _f_ _only_ _there was a magic potion that makes an ordinary man look_ _…_ _less ordinary,_ _and fuel him with_ _enough_ _courage_ _to ask her what her name is and actually getting it_ , he thought while sipping the bourbon from his flask.

For the following hour, he would wonder what's her name? Is she straight?! Or bi? 'Cause he was down with that, he was a very open minded kind of guy.

All this things kept him distracted from all the serious themes he was soon to discus with other NUDI members and RADs at the R.I.P (RAD Intel Party) he was heading to.

For those who naturally thought it was a misspelling or just… anything else, this stands for Normies Uncool with Discriminating Idiots. But the confusion is understandable.

Looking back, there might be something non-ordinary about him: he's one of the few humans, or "normies", to actually like and support monsters, or RADs as some preferred, taking a stand against discrimination. Maybe because his second girlfriend was a _yuki ona_ , a Japanese snow woman, who broke up their engagement for all the bashing they got from other humans, or maybe because he has never had an understanding of how discrimination works. His mind was never able to wrap around the idea of hating people just for being born, thinking or looking different; instead, he has always hated people who preach such things. As far as he sees it, it is a school of ignorance and irrationality.

Today's topic was very close and important for him: the legalization of human and monster marriages.

This kind of couples were rare, but they were real, and they suffered for not being able to express their love openly as they want.

He didn't hope to marry his old high school girlfriend, she was long married to someone else, but he wanted to prevent people in his former position from feeling the same pain as he has.

"…society has no right to destroy a couple's love! Everyone deserves to be with the person they love, and it is time to destroy this senseless taboo…"

Not his best speech, he thought, but he wanted something that wouldn't be used as a excuse for zoophilia, and it seemed to lit up some fire in the audience, in a few cases, it was literal.

At the end she approached him as he left the podium.

"That was quite a speech," said in a silky voice. She looked directly at him the whole time. She was possibly the most beautiful of all women he has ever encountered in person, and he immediately recognized her a the woman from the train.

The strange thing about Richard is that he was fine with talking to a crowd, but women always made him stammer. This time however, it seemed to worked on his favor; this woman who introduced herself as a Katherine Harper found it rather… adorable.

Not even drunk he would have guessed he would end up sleeping with her that night, let alone for the following three years.

7 years ago.

When the congress approved the law for couples of different species to marry, they were overwhelmed by a joy like no other. Of course, they could only marry in Boo York, but still, this was the first step needed for change. And no surprise came to their friends when they heard they were the first human-monster marriage ever record in history.

Because, seriously, who says they were really the first?

But then again, it didn't matter, they were finally married, for real!

Their marriage would be the poster for human and monster unity. They moved to a house in New Salem, in the redwoods, isolated, but close to a good school that always stood with them, Monster High, and planned to send their kids there one day.

But much to their disgrace, for each person who supports them, there is an opposing force. ASOME

ASOME wanted many things, world domination, the supremacy of the most powerful monsters over the weakest and the eradication or at least slavery of mankind. So not surprisingly, they did their best to stop this absurd law from being approved, but when Boo York approved it, they were mad, and when they read about their marriage, they exploded!

They could already see more couples like this forming, waiting in line to marry! The monster blood tainted with human blood!

Unacceptable!

They warned them plenty of times this would end badly if they didn't cease, but they wouldn't listen. They had the balls to stand against them, to change the world for good and express their love to the world! They were not afraid of them.

Now it was time to teach them fear.

For three months they lived happily…

At the beginning of the fourth month the nightmare began.

Their mercenaries came in during the night, when they were most vulnerable. They tied them and beat them with their guns for hours, then they began to rape Katherine before his eyes. Richard was unable to do anything but watch how they raped her one after the other, sometimes in pairs, sometimes three at the time!

The worst part was the drug, whatever drug they used, it turned her into a beast whose body craved for sex — her hips moved on their own, a powerful orgasm spamming one after the other and she couldn't stop it!

She didn't want it, burt her body reacted as though she enjoyed it!

For the whole night she cried as they laughed, flashing their fangs and horns and forked tongues. They were werewolves and trolls, and vampires, and dragons. They were the worst monsters he had ever seen, and when they got bored they butchered her body and knocked him unconscious.

Richard ended in a coma for six months and woke up wishing he had woken up from a nightmare, instead he woke up into one.

To his surprise he discovered that both, monster police had abandoned the case and human police wouldn't take it since it wasn't their jurisdiction. When he heard that he was possessed by a rage like has never felt. Richard quitted NUDI and disappeared. No one heard from him. As far as anyone who once knew him was concerned, he most likely killed himself.

5 years ago.

He had spent years planning his revenge. First he found the men who killed his wife. To this goal, he used a magic that few possess.

Once he found them, he made them feel the same his wife felt, to each one of them, some with a nail-bat, one with a _picana electrica_ , but all of them in front of their wives and children.

These families were his first unknown victims.

And as time passed they forgot he ever existed, the legalization of human-monster marriage extended to other cities and states, but they kept working on their agenda, and so did he. For the following years, he would plan his vengeance, one dead at the time, but every attack was like a mosquito stinging a giant. He wanted it that way. Every time he hit, it was too insignificant for them to know he was a danger, that he was even there; instead he became what they thought of him: a virus, the invisible threat they couldn't see or kill, attacking those assets with enough information to form his plan, but small enough to notice their absence.

It took him years get the information he needed, and in those years, a deadly danger grew inside him. As it turns out, as his doctor explained to him seven months ago, years of hunting monsters don't come cheap, too many blows to the head had come to a severe cost, and when a growing and inoperable brain tumor was detected, he was pushed to hasten his scheme. If he was going to die, he would die exposing them to the world, exposing their lies and corruption — they are the real reason why monsters and humans hate each other! Every war there's been between them has been their doing!

Enough with the lies and the secret meetings and the conspiracy! People will know the truth about them.

19 September.

03:25 P.M.

Monster High, SST headquarter room.

"Ok, I just gave Principal Bloodgood a report of our progress," Devon said entering their headquarter room, "she was pleased and surprised I got a name just when she thought of calling me out on this, that is what I call a happy coincidence. The girls are on their way with 'confessors' as we speak, we should be hearing from them soon."

"Good." Keith said absentmindedly.

"Are you ok?"

"No, I'm fine, why wouldn't I? We already got a face… he totally fits the profile: his wife was killed by ASOME, there is the motive, he was a NUDI member and as such he learned everything about monsters, which includes their weaknesses and strengths, and another irony there, none of them ever thought their deep knowledge of the monsters they want to help would be used to kill them, not to mention they use boogie sand to turn their initiates into monsters so they can truly know and understand what is like to live as a RAD in today's society, sort of a passage rite for them."

"Yeah I know," said he. "I still remember my week as a ghost. I loved being able to walk through walls, disappear and fly, but that aside it wasn't as fun as I thought."

"Because you wouldn't play peekaboo in the girls bathroom as I told you."

"Right," he laughed.

"That's probably where he got it." He sounded reading his record on he smartboard. "He's got hate running in his blood… and maybe there is something else. If not why cheating? I just wonder was the trigger. Why attack now that humans and monsters were taking the first step for a better relationship?"

"After all he has lived, I can only guess that was exactly it, he felt this was all a lie and wanted us to see that. I don't know, you know how crazy minds work, they want to punish everyone else and ruin their party for something of which they're not responsible. There is no use in looking for a logic to their actions."

"No, even when irrational, there's some logic on their actions."

"There is something else on your mind."

"…When your dad takes you on the field to work with him… have you ever had the feeling that a case is not going to have a happy ending?" Keith asked.

"Now, why would you say that? Who is depressed now?"

"Nah, you're probably right," said taking a sip of Amaretto from his hipflask, getting an angry look from Devon. "What? It's 6:00 p.m. somewhere."

"Really? From a freaking flask? What are you — Bad Santa? "

"You want some?"

"…Well, why not?"

Devon takes Keith's hipflask drinking a large sip from his liquor, as fast as Keith would.

"You're not supposed to drink all of it, you're supposed to sip it, taste it, enjoy it ." Said getting it back. "Now, if you excuse me, these potential victims won't identify themselves," said reading a list of all the female students on school.

So far, he has only identified who would be the erudite on his wheel of sacrifices: Ghoulia, the smartest girl on campus. That only left the slut and the virgin, now who would fit the profile? Who would he choose for the sacrifice?

Outside the room, a visitor, Clawdeen, accompanied by Frankie, tapped her freshly polished purple claws (polished during study hour for those who need to know) against the door, leaving small, almost imperceptible dents in their wake. The muffled sound of the guys' argument traveled through the thick door; to anyone's ears it wouldn't be understandable, but to her marvelously sharp and acute wolf ears, their words were as clear as thought they talked right behind her.

"So, what are they saying?" Frankie asked.

"What?"

"Oh, don't start, you got that look."

"Look? What look?"

"The 'I just heard something I ain't sure I should have heard' look."

"Oh, c'mon. You're joking."

"I could take a picture next time."

Then the door opens, Devon was standing there inviting them in.

"Oh, hi guys… looks like you're working hard on cracking this case," Frankie announced with an awkward chuckle.

"If you can call drinking hard work," Clawdeen said, sensing the smell of liquor and looking at the flask on the table.

"Hey, you know how I work. Half of project, I did it drunk, the other half I just pretended to listen to you while I drifted to my happy place."

Clawdeen glares angrily at him.

"You know, I'm starting to get more faith on you guys. That's right, I can smell your breathe too." Snarled at Devon.

"Lucia, you have no idea how much I love your bitterness, is so refreshing," Keith said back.

"Lucia?" Frankie asked.

"That's my middle name, how you know my middle name?"

"By reading your school file."

"That's why you called me here? To check if that's really my name?"

"No, I just needed to ask you something very important and delicate."

"Like what?" She asked arm-folded

"Who is the sluttiest girl on school?"

Everyone's eyes open in surprise the second he utters his question.

There is a brief moment of silence. "What do you want with Toralei?" Clawdeen responds, Frankie wipes her head looking at her with a expression that said "what?"

 _Now, that's just mean_ , she thought.

"Toralei? Which one is that?" He began looking for her on his tablet.

"The mean cat chick that looks like your ex," Devon promptly said. "Kind of like Garfield and Barbie's love child. What can I say, he has his own manual," explained to the girls who looked at them confused.

"Yeah, I think I've seen her tail on the halls," said clicking her file.

"What now?" Frankie asks.

"That's how he recognizes girls, by looking at their hips… you don't want to know." Devon adds.

"Here it is. Hey, you're right, she is! And you're right too, she looks like my ex… only but cuter. Me likes her." He smirked.

"You're joking?" Clawdeen asked, looking at him peeved.

"That's because you haven't met her yet," Frankie sounded. "Heck, we're her friends and we don't even like that much."

"Correction, we're not friends," Clawdeen went on, "her words. I agree."

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for pussies, the one animal that gets away with slapping alligators, and I love redheads, my two weaknesses," he retorted with a shit-eating grin. "Hope Unknown doesn't feel the same way. Now, what other ghoul do you refer to as 'that bitch' when you talk about her on her back? Or do you just extend a casual greeting in the form of 'good morning slut' accepting her… uh, let's go with frivolous nature?"

Clawdeen grimaces in shock while Frankie tried to decided whether this was a joke or not.

"And here you wonder why I got such a low image of him," Clawdeen said to Frankie. "Just to be clear, how much have you drunk so far?"

"Not enough to get drunk, I can tell you that," Devon said. "Believe me, he is far from being drunk yet. It is like vitamins for him."

"Can't imagine what he's like when drunk." She snarled.

"Sweetie, you'd need a whole night at a bar with him to see all his real levels of drunkness." He added. "He has the liver of an Irish sailor from the nineteenth century."

"Ok, and just to be clear, why are you asking about it?" Frankie managed to inquire.

"I'm working on a list of potential victims, for that I need names, so I downloaded all the students' files on this not-so little pad. The idea was to read the profiles of all the girls to see who would be chosen as the slut and the virgin for his next kill, but is an awfully long list and it would take a whole day. So I thought I'd ask you instead to save some time."

"Oh, thanks for clearing that up, it all makes so much sense now," Clawdeen snarled.

"Do we want to know what does that even mean?" Frankie asked.

"Technically, you _shouldn't_ know," Devon said"

"Wait… are you telling me you know when a girl is a slut just by looking at her face?" Clawdeen asked.

"Well, is not an exact science —"

"More like no science at all," Devon cuts him off.

"—but yes, I can tell by just looking at your face whether you're a slut or not, is all in the eyes. Although I reckon is not always effective."

"Right…" Clawdeen said exceptically.

"Don't worry, I put the two of you on the virgins list," said opening the list on the smartboard, with pictures of them. "Unless of course you'd like to correct me, this is the moment to do it. Just keep in in mind being in this list means you might die last, assuming he targets any of you of course."

"Again… what?" Frankie grimaced.

"Ignore him, he's just… entering his first level of drunkness."

"No, he isn't… look, we got a friend at the hospital we're planning on visiting today, so… good luck with whatever this is, and please forget my phone number." Clawdeen said leaving the room.

"Uh… I'm going to the hospital with her too, this was… eh, a new experience for me I must say. I wouldn't know how to call it, though, so I'm just gonna leave now," Frankie announced.

"Such lovely girls, we should hang out with them." Keith said.

"Okay. Now you're getting drunk."

04:23 P.M.

Northwest Hospital, room 42.

"The house feels so quiet and lonely without you." Cleo cried on Deuce's lap. "And as for Monster High, I… I don't know what to tell you… I wish I had good news for you, but… Jackson and Holt died and the funeral is tomorrow… that is like only news there is, and I didn't have it in me to tell you one of your best friends is dead and you were lucky to only lose your eyes…" she wept. "I need you, baby. Ever since you're here, I… I feel like a part of me has gone… and… this is all my fault! If I hadn't insisted, you would have left earlier on a taxi or something and he wouldn't have —"

Cleo begins to cry uncontrollably, she was unable to see her boyfriend feeling — knowing it was in part her fault he was in such a terrible condition, lying on that hospital bed, eyeless!

He was stable, but the doctors insisted he should stay longer.

"It's ok, babe. You can cry, at least one of us can," he said; only the high doses of morphine flowing though his I.V. kept him on such a good mood. Truth is he would lose it if it wasn't because of the many drugs and painkillers he is given, and the pain on his wounds… it would just drive him insane!

"At least he didn't take your personality," she said with a weak smile and a feeble laugh.

"That is the good thing about Vicodin, I don't give a fuck about anything, not my eyes, not my future, not all my dead dreams… why do you think I just used the F word?"

"Just how much medication are you getting?"

"How could I know? I can't count anymore. That's the good thing about it, I just don't care! They could pull out all my teeth and I wouldn't even notice! They didn't, did they?" He asked touching his gums to check for his teeth.

"Don't worry, they haven't."

"Hey, maybe now I won't ever take math again. That's a silver lining."

Cleo giggles and sobs at the same time, holding his left hand tightly with both hands.

"I love you, sweetie," she says…

"And I love you…"

"Is so hard for me to know you're here and there is so little I can do to help you…" she cried.

Deuce's "snake-hawk" hissed at her, and moved leaning at her face, as though trying to console her.

"Is there something you'd want to tell me?" He asked.

"Like what!?" She sounded jumpy. "There is… there is nothing else to say, I wish I had, but…" she takes a deep breath, "sweetie, I…" Cleo pauses for a moment, she bites her lower lip not knowing how to confess what she did. "Sweetie, during this time I've —"

"Hello, snake-haired friend," Abbey said with her strong characteristic accent and deep voice, bursting through the door with Heath, Operetta, Frankie and Clawdeen.

If it wasn't for the sudden drop of temperature and her unmistakable voice, he would have thought it was a KGB agent.

"Hey, it seems like you're improving," Frankie said, leaning on to his bed. "Uh, is it ok if I hug him, or the doctor said no contact allowed? You know what? Forget it, I might overcurrent you and these machines, and we don't want that."

"Ghouls! What an unexpected delight… what are you doing here?" Cleo uttered, utterly surprised to see them here.

"What does it look like we're doing? We're visiting our friend," Heath explained.

"The doctor said it was ok to come in as long as we don't stay for too long," Abbey sounded, "he also said you have to leave."

"What?! Why!?"

"Because there can only be five visitors, and with you it makes six, and we can only be five." Abbey retorted.

"Right…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Clawdeen said leaning a claw on her shoulder as she leaves the room, "but she's right, we can only be so many in here, and you've been with him all day so… we thought you could use a break and give his friends some time with him."

"Sure, I… I'll be outside…" said closing the door behind her.

"Wow… you ghouls saw that? She's so sad she isn't even wearing make up," Frankie noted once she left. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"I always believed purple was her natural eyelid color," Operetta added.

"Always thought she fought with her sister so much that she got permanent black eyes, too bad you can see that, dude. I bet you always wonder how she looks under that make up," Heath chuckled, getting a glare from all the girls. "What?"

"You got the sensitivity of a dead rock," Clawdeen growled at him.

"Don't get mad at him, ghouls…" Deuce said in such a relaxed tone, he almost seemed to be humored by his comment. "It's ok, he's being himself. I like that. That… that's a good thing… I am glad to know some things are still the same… Don't ever change, dude."

"See? He doesn't mind. You totally look and smell like crap, by the way. Aren't you supposed to get a sponge bath from a hot nurse or something?" He asked unabashedly.

"I was supposed to get one today, but Cleo wouldn't let him… and when she insisted on doing it herself, they called the doctors and ended up forgetting about my bath."

"Wow, dude… bathing another dude is just wrong. Like losing your eyes wasn't enough," he joked.

"I know, right? Is not like I'm gonna be looking at her cleavage now."

They both laughed a little while the girls giggled awkwardly, wondering how could they laugh in a time like this, but thinking maybe it was the next best thing to do.

"…So… I heard about Holt…" Deuce said, then Heath's face fell off. "Is he… are they really gone?"

"Yes… he — they died at her studio," said he, nodding at Operetta with his head. "Some guys from school are throwing a bonfire-memorial for them tonight."

"How did it happen?"

The girls and Heath interchange a look as though arguing whether to tell him how Holt died or not.

"I can sense you guys are looking at each other. I want the truth, I can take it. I'm to high on Oxycodine to feel bad about it."

"He… died by sound," Frankie said finally.

"Sound?"

"Yeah… eh, apparently somebody did something to the boom-boxes so they would be loud enough to kill him," Clawdeen added.

"Well, isn't that irony?"

"Yeah… it really is…" Operetta answered with her arms folded, pressing tightly her elbows.

They all stay silent for a moment, a grievous feeling had sat upon them, then, very lowly, Deuce began to laugh, and very slowly he began to laugh harder, entering a fit of laughter. An uncontrollable, unhinged laughter!

All his friends look at him in shock. Then he begins to whine, taking his hands to his face, right where his eyes should be, and begins to cry, crying without tears, just an agonizing squeal that turns into a raging shriek.

Cleo quickly enters the room, followed by Robecca, Draculaura, Lagoona, Gil and Deuce's cousin Viperine who came this week from Hauntlywood to visit him; bewilderment and concern was emblazoned on their faces.

04:42 P.M.

Residence of Clawrence Strauss, Monster Side of New Salem.

"Good afternoon, sir. We'd like to ask you some questions," Rochelle said politely, yet with an air of authority in her voice.

"Yes, sure. About what?" He asked, inviting her and Scarah into his house.

For these interrogations they wore a different outfit and make up with a more "official" and "grown up" look that would help them "pass as just very young-looking federal agents, or something," in order to make the confessors more willing to talk to them. Keith's idea, not theirs. Rochelle wasn't thrilled with it, but she reckoned it might actually help if they believed they were talking to an actual figure of authority, rather than a pair of students playing detective; Scarah's powers would help to complete the illusion with a faint psychic suggestion.

"We would like to make you some questions about your involvement in the Unknown case," Scarah answers. "We understand you went to the police station confessing two crimes you didn't commit using the exact same words as other twenty-two —"

"Excuse me, who are you again?"

"I'm Special Agent Goyle, Chief Director of the SST, and she's Special Agent Screams, she's our Psychic Analyst," Rochelle invented wildly, flashing her Student Safety Team badge fast enough for him to see it was a golden badge, but without being able to read what it actually says.

 _Nice job making it sound "official."_ Scarah said on their psychic link.

 _Thanks "agent,"_ she thought back.

Inside the house, she eyes around the room, looking for any clue as for why was he chosen. Then stares at the pictures on the wall and the table. Most of them were from his family vacation, some others seemed to be from college, but almost all of them were with his wife and what she could guess were their friends, and can't help to find something weird on the pictures of their vacations on Hexico.

"SST? I've never heard of it."

"That's because we're relatively new, and we haven't signed for a tv show yet," Scarah shouted out in a snarky tone. "Now, if you collaborate with us, we might get off your shoulder quickly and we won't delve into your taxes."

"That's why am saying, is there anything I can help you with?"

"So here is the thing, we know you didn't do any of that stuff you said you did," Rochelle began. "None of you did, yet, you all felt the need to go to the police station and confess a crime you didn't commit at the exact same time, why is that?"

"I — I don't know, I swear. All I know is I woke up today and hand this feeling, this urge to go with the police and confess. I'm told I didn't do it, but I keep having this images in my head, this awful visions that keep coming in spurs, like flashes."

"Sir, we got reasons to believe you were hypnotized by the man who did it." Rochelle went on. "Have you come in contact with anyone who you might say is suspicious?"

"A new neighbor, or a stranger on the subway." Scarah continued.

"No that I can recall. Look, I work selling cellphones all day. I see a lot of different people, and I don't keep memory of half my clients."

"Very well," she went on. "If you could allow my partner to enter your head and see any sign of tampering, we'd be grateful."

"You got a warrant for that?"

"Sir, we're asking for your cooperation. I could have entered your mind without your permission causing you great pain and you would never know what happened, but I'm asking you because I don't believe in the intrusion of privacy, but I will violate it if you insist in delaying this investigation any more than it has to.

"Well, I —"

"You are being an ass, just because you don't want us to see you have been cheating on your wife with your best friend," Rochelle said sharply. "That's right, right. Those pictures on the wall. How long has it been? Two, three years?"

"How did you —?"

"Look, we just wanna know how, when and by whom were you hypnotized, now can I enter your mind?"

"…Just don't tell my wife," he accepted.

Thus she began opening her third eye, entering the werewolf's mind. The living room seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he struggled to block out all thought about his affairs, but try as he might, the images of every wild night he had with his mermaid lover bubbled to the surface of his mind, grossing out Scarah who seeks for the memories implanted in his mind.

And there she was, in the middle of that basement with Clawrence taking out Deuce's eyes, and then jumping into the recording studio in the catacombs, but the images were so sporadic and so fragile that they could only be fake, as they already believed. But they were placed so well, that whoever did it left no trace of his presence, no imprint of his mind-self or anything that could tell where and when were they done.

"So… did that help?" He asked as soon as the linking ended.

"It helped as much as I thought it would," she said. "Thanks for cooperating. It is much easier when you're willing."

"And you won't tell anything to my wife, won't you?"

"We don't care about cheating bastards, we care about trapping criminals." Rochelle said at once.

"True, but on the other hand… listen carefully," Scarah went on, making eye contact with her hazy white pupilless eyes. "You will not remember us at all."

"I will not remember you at all…" he repeated in a trance.

"We're the product of you imagination." She added as they leave the door.

"You're the product of my imagination…"

"And every time you try being unloyal to your wife you will picture your mom naked in the shower." She snapped her fingers closing the door almost immediately.

"The mother? Really?" rochelle said holding her laugh.

"Hey, you didn't see what I saw, he deserves it. His mind is a brothel."

"Speaking of which… did you see anything helpful in there?"

"No, just what I suspected. The memories were as fake a three dollars bill, and they're untraceable."

"Think we'll get better luck on the next one?"

"Not really… not if the other implants are as good as this one," she confessed.

08:42 P.M.

Darkholme Residence, Human Side of New Salem.

After questioning thirteen of the released confessors and seeing way too many memories that Scarah wishes to repress, they went to Devon's house, through the catacombs, where the ghouls were welcomed with open arms and gave him a briefing of their progress.

"In one word: nothing." Scarah said.

"What do you mean with nothing?"

"I mean not only those memories were all fake, something we all knew, but they were also untraceable," Scarah explained.

"This goes a bit out of my wheel house… how does that work exactly?"

"See, when a telepath makes a memory like these, they usually leave several things behind that say they were there, the most common trace is a faint remembrance of the moments priors to when the implant was made, as well as an imprint of that person's mind-self that is… let's say on the back of the picture."

"Like the serial number of a printing machine on a photo."

"I always wondered what those numbers are," she said. "Now, I was hopping to find those remembrances to know where and when were they hypnotized and compelled to confess so we could traces his movements, you know, kinda like when cops trace a suspect's credit card activity."

"Good idea," Devon congratulated her, impressed by this… small display of brilliance, you could say. Let's not feed her ego.

"Thanks," she smiled proudly. "Only they had no memory of any previous interaction with Dick, and if they did, he either destroyed the memory or hid it so well, I couldn't possibly find it… usually a good telepath knows this and how to erase his tracks, but even that leaves some traces behind, which is, as in everything in this case, ironic, but not this time. This guy did it perfectly, but then again, I'm just a Gamma Level Telepath, I'd need to be an Omega Level to get better results."

"Gamma Level? Should I be wearing a hazmat?" Rochelle inquired with a derisive tone.

Devon and Rochelle giggle while Scarah glares at them.

Then she mentions something she read in a book once. "You know, I remember reading about something like this in Telepathy Camp, said the best way to leave a traceless memory implant like this is to do it while the victim is asleep, like standing next to their bed on the middle of the night, not only the mind is more vulnerable but also that way they'll have no memory of you while doing the implant, which means you won't have to erase it leaving more traces behind. That's some very advanced stuff."

"Ok, you know what, you girls can go home and rest, you can take the next day off."

"What? _No_ _n_ , we want to keep working on this!" Rochelle exclaimed exalted.

"Actually I could use some rest," Scarah acknowledges.

"Is too late, you have been out all day, you ghouls need to rest. Look, we already know who he is, Keith and I can keep working on this tomorrow."

" _Oui_ , but I want keep helping."

"Rochelle, I know how you feel, but if I'm not mistaken, Jackson and Holt's funeral is tomorrow, isn't it? The reason I'm giving you the day off is because I know a funeral is not as easy as just standing there crying while the body is being buried. Even if you and Holt weren't that close, I am sure your friend Frankie will need you there. You have to be there for them, all of them, to be her rock — no pun intended. That's what friends are for."

"I guess you right…" Rochelle sighed, looking prone. "I… probably should get going."

"You know, I heard some guys are throwing a memorial bonfire on their name," Scarah announced, "to show them their respects without having to dress fancy, sharing those anecdotes that would be inappropriate in a funeral with his parents."

"Define inappropriate." Devon asked.

"I don't know, something among the lines of 'I remember when we were in sophomore and we sneaked into the girls' bathroom' I guess. You should go. I'm sure Frankie would be there too. Consider it a rehearsal for tomorrow, so you know how to handle her crying."

"That has bad idea written all over it." Devon says reproachfully.

"I agree, " Rochelle agrees. "I feel that is going to end bad, bad, bad."

08:26 P.M.

Somewhere in the woods, not far from school grounds.

All of Holt and Jackson's friends had gathered around a large fire. More than half the senior class was present for the memorial, their closest friends stood before the fire with a microphone to express their deep sorrow and share their best moments with Holt and/or Jackson. Gil remembers this time during winter, a twelve year old werecat challenged him to slide down a hill that was supposed to be haunted, and Holt wasn't about turning down a challenge — not even from a twelve year old! He went down fast as hell, burning — melting the snow and ended up crashing against a three. He caused a small fire, firefighters came in, but they both escaped before they even showed up and got away with it. Up to this day, no one in the firemen department knows how it began.

People laughed, then tears followed.

But everything turned violent when — let's just say several — girls discovered Holt had dated them at the same time. It would have ended up in a big fight if not because of Manny who stepped in and solved everything with, arguably, the smartest thing he's ever said.

"All right, ghouls! Calm down! I understand you're up set. But there is no reason to fight here — in fact we shouldn't be crying either. I mean, Holt (and in a smaller part Jackson) was our friend. And he gave us his love to all of us — maybe he gave a little bit too much, but I know he wouldn't have wanted this. I know he'd want us to celebrate his life the way he lived it, so… let's celebrate the life of Holt Hyde!" He exclaimed with all the capacity of his minotaur lunges, rising a cup of beer, turning what began as a unofficial funeral, into a party!

"Oh. _Mon_. Goth!" Ghoulia exclaimed in shock when she saw what it had become.

Devon, Scarah and Rochelle were flabbergasted.

"Who the hell brings beer to a funeral in the first place?" The green skinned banshee asked. "You know what, never mind. I just figured out."

"Please, don't tell me Keith has something to do with this. It has his name written all over it," he begged.

"Don't worry, he isn't here. This is someone else's fault." Devon sighed in relief. "Toralei."

"Why am I not surprised to hear that," Clawdeen said, showing up from behind.

"Clawdeen, what are you doing here?" Rochelle asks.

"I thought I came for a funeral, but that was half an hour ago. I didn't know you could dance topless and drunk like in Fearsey Shore in a funeral."

"Is Frankie with you?"

"She was. I'm afraid I lost her."

"We need to find her before something bad happens." Rochelle said.

"You should be more worried about Operetta."

"She's here too?"

"Yep."

"I told you this was going to end bad, bad, bad. Operetta can't be anywhere nears beer, she can't handle alcohol."

"Cute, redhead and easy on the drink, you might want to keep her away from Keith too." Scarah suggests.

"Okay, we need to find the ghouls now, who else came with you?" Rochelle asked.

"Just the usual gang: Lala, Abbey, Cleo, Lagoona and Ghoulia."

"I don't want to rain on the party, but do you girls realize this is making the killer's job easier, don't you?"

"Oh, thank you, because having my besties lost in this semi-naked madness wasn't bad enough," Clawdeen snarled at him.

"Why are you barking at me? Am just pointing out the dangers of throwing this party with a serial killer on the loose!"

"He's right," Scarah said. "This is how all slasher films start. Next thing they know, the second a girl and a guy start having sex, is time to kill everything that humps!"

"You might wanna tell that to Operetta," Rochelle says as she pointed at her, straddled on Manny's shoulder, with her top off, waving her shirt and exposing her breast in a blue bra to the air while yelling cheerfully as the music begins to play.

The girls were in utmost shock.

"Okay… why can't I stop looking at her? And why do I feel I'm getting a little turned on?" Scarah said.

"Wow… that's… wow… Frankly, I'm speechless…" Devon had to admit it, he was aroused.

"Remember Keith asked me about the sluttiest girls on school for his who might die next list?" Clawdeen sounded.

"Aha…" he answered without taking eyes from Operetta.

"I think I got another name for him."

"Yes. Okay… I'll tell him…" He said, still without deviating his sight.

"You could at least pretend you're listening," growled Clawdeen.

"I don't need my eyes to hear."

Clawdeen and Rochelle stared at him in disapproval.

 **A/N: I wanna sasy thanks to all those support me and have given me reviews, ver VERY appreciate it.**

 **At frst his wasmeant to be a one shot, but I realized it wopuld be a long one shot. Now thisi s going to be split into 3 stories al throuioiut the school year, each of 13 issues,**

 **Now I want to pose you a question, who do you think should or coukld be the slut for the sacrifice?**


	9. Chapter 9

IX

The girls had no words to describe what their eyes saw that night. The fact that Jackson and D.J.'s memorial turned into a party was crazy enough, but then Operetta appears on Manny's shoulders, dancing topless and drunk!?

 _Operetta's drunk? Again?!_ Rochelle thought.

How did it ever get to this?!

What was she thinking?!

And most important, is anyone uploading this to the Internet? 'Cause this is a once in a lifetime event… probably… the ghouls hoped this to be a once in a lifetime event — No wait! Spectra"s got it already.

As always, you can count on our favorite, ethereal, ectoplasmic and incorporeal, purple haired gossip ghost girl to get the premise on her Gory Gazette! Now with mobile version.

New update!

CONFIRMED! Operetta's nipples are Fuchsia!

Also, the rumors of her breast implants are clearly fake, since you can only one of them has a scar and is for being a phantom.

"Wait! But I did not post this!" Spectra moaned when she saw her website on her iCoffin. "How did this happen? I must delete this!" She wailed frantically, as she tried to erase the video, only to discover her website has been hacked! Where is a White hat when you need it?

Now this video is out there in the web for the world to see it.

And the comment section is fraughting, exploding with comments about how… uh, let's just skip that part —

 _She's really celebrating D.J.'s life the way he would have wanted. That's all I'm going to say. Let's face it, is the only good thing to say._

The girls look at her confused. In shock. Probably disappointed. And if the situation were different, they'd be slightly humored.

"Ok… as I said, let's get the ghouls and get out of here — _en ce moment!_ " Rochelle said in her strong French accent, using her sharp eyes to find the rest of her friends amidst the dancing crowd.

Scarah could see in her mind how she checked each face for a match, scanning almost the same way a Terminator does.

Wydowna Spider, Catty Noir, Jinafire Long, Skelita Calaveras, Honey Swamp, Isi Dawndancer, Gigi Grant, Catrine DeMew, Jane Boolittle, and just about any other ghoul that is not that important or popular were in sight, even Gooliope Jellington was here, of course as a circus girl, where else would she be? If this wasn't a circus, they didn't know what else it could be then; but her closest friends — the most important to her were nowhere to be seen!

Some of them didn't really have a reason to be here, they were just like — what am I going to do tonight? I'm gonna party on a bonfire!

She tries to focus and scan this madness, searching for Draculaura first, but there was no sing of the _petite_ vampire. She hoped she had turned into a bat and flown out of there.

She tried looking for her friends Robecca, Lagoona and Frankie, but she saw no screw or fin in the crowd — correction, she just saw two pairs of fins in the crowd: Gil and Lagoona!

 _What's he waiting to break up with her?_

Maybe they could help her find the rest of the gang, but how could she get to them without getting lost in the crowd?!

 _Maybe if I use my wings,_ she thought — then it bashes her in the head as a steel bar! You guys should know that's the best way to hit a gargoyle.

Why was she so dumb she wouldn't use her wings to fly over the threes so she could see and search for them from above?! She is a gargoyle! The sky is her element… well, it is actually rock, or more like a flying rock, but whatever the case, the sky is the perfect place for her to watch and search for anything or anyone!

Searching on ground level was as dumb as a bag of rocks, and she was glad Keith wasn't there because he would mention it with his trademarked sarcastic tone and she wasn't in the mood for that.

Once she took height and landed on top of the strongest and tallest pine three, she was able to see who was in the party better than on the ground and point the exact location of her friends so Scarah, Keith and Clawdeen could find them and get them out of here.

There in the sky, she finally saw Frankie, Lala, Abbey and Cleo trying to escape from the revelers. Even Robecca was caught up in this nonsense in a futile attempt to get Operetta off of Manny's shoulders and out of here, but with some luck, she would get them all out before getting into any trouble.

Clawdeen went in first looking for the (not-so) happy couple — But alas! Luck was not on their side, because before she could even tell the others where are the other ghouls at, she sees the most frightening image of all, shrouded by darkness, savagely and rapidly galloping through the woods with a glistening steel blade in hand — suddenly, Clawdeen's ears tensed, she wipes her head in a sudden move, Toralei and her twin werecats entourage turn their heads on the same direction as well, as werebeasts they could hear it clear and loud over the strong sound of the music, the hooves pondering down the dusty path, approaching them! Relentless, merciless, with fuming fury! In an instant — shot out, a black horse bursts into the party with an impossible jump over their heads and lands heavily and perfectly square in the middle of the crowd, its eyes glowing bright red-blood as though burning iron.

It was Headless Headmistress Bloodgood!

They all looked up terrified, her face livid, with eyes that seemed to gleam red, scarlet red, the color of blood burning with tireless rage; and even her face turned the same color, she was so mad right now that all her blood had, sonehow, gotten all up to her disembodied head.

Then all the music dies as suddenly as she comes, she was literally steaming sheer and hot anger! They could see it, exhaled from her teeth-grinding mouth, and her horse too, it contrasted against the cold air of the night. Or so it seemed under the silver light of the half filled moon rising above in the sky tonight. Maybe they were all so scared they believed she was steaming out of rage.

Their hearts pounded wildly against their chests — well, those that were functional or had one, of course — nobody dared to say a word, nobody could look her in the eye, they didn't even want to look at her at all, but they felt they had no other choice.

Everyone remained silent, waiting for her to say something, and wishing she wouldn't. This silent waiting for her to speak was probably worse than any word that would fume from her mouth. Operetta struggled to stay on Manny's shoulders as she covered her breasts with her arms, while Heath murmurs in Abbey's ear "Don't make any sudden move. Her vision is based on movement, she can only see you if you move fast."

"I can perfectly see all and each! Single! One! OF YOU!" Screamed, spitting out in rage. Her voice echoed — reverberated in the woods.

 _I wouldn't think so_ , Scarah thought.

 _This is terrible! I knew this was going to end bad, very bad._ Rochelle thought, holding on to the three. _S'il vous plaît, don't look up, s'il vous plaît_ — _don't see me_. She begged in her mind, not knowing her prayers were being listened.

Using her psychic powers, Scarah makes use of a technique she learned, thinking it would be useful one day: psychic cloaking. A simple, albeit tricky trick, that allows her to hide herself and her SST mates from Bloodgood's eyes, by projecting an image of their surroundings, around them… in her mind… eh, or something like that… I think.

 _Wait_ … _Is that how it works?_

I don't know! Is telepathy! As I said, it was a tricky trick. Bottom line is, she can't see them, so the three wannabe detectives are safe from the wrath of the Headless Headmistress!

 _Add convenient lightning strike at the end of this sentence._

Would you knock it off and let me narrate?

If only Clawdeen hadn't moved into the crowd to get Lagoona and Gil before her arrival, she would have been cloaked too, but she was out of Scarah's sight, and the headmistress had already seen her. But even then, she wouldn't accept that.

 _Guys, this is the moment. I casted a psychic cloak around us — To put it simple, we're invisible to her. So if you want to escape what would be an unjustified punishment for us, this is the moment._ She told them through their telepathic link.

 _I… appreciate that, thank you._ Devon agreed, with a slight smile in his mind-self.

If being friends with Keith for the last ten years has thought him something, is that he should take any opportunity he has to escape a situation like this, specially if he doesn't deserve a punishment for something he's not responsible of.

Rochelle on the other claw was worried about her ghoulfriends.

 _What about Clawdeen? And Frankie, Lala_ … _and all the other ghouls?_ She asked.

 _I'm sorry but if I can't see them, I can't help them, specially if she's already seen them._ She explained. _Look, this trick is hard to keep up for me, so if you wanna leave, you're welcome to flee with us, but if you want to stay and get punished by something you weren't a part of… be my guest. Good luck protecting them in detention._ Said bluntly.

Reluctantly, she agrees after mulling it for a brief moment — she was never, and I mean NEVER, good to make quick decisions, is not in her gargoyle nature, but this time she had to make this one real fast, hating herself for leaving her friends behind to their luck.

How could she call herself a friend after this? How could she look them in the eye?

 _They'll understand._

She hoped they'd understand she couldn't risk getting caught in this jam, not when she's so close to capture _Unknown_.

Who knows what the principal would do with this red, blinding rage inside her? She could get her off the case and even from the SST. Or worse! She could get expelled!

It would later come to her mind, that this was almost as a one of those cop movies where the main character is usually caught in a bad situation that gets him or her in problems with the captain. And she actually liked to think of herself as a School Police. Honest to herself, she loved the job she was doing with Devon, Scarah, Ghoulia and… Keith.

As a gargoyle, she gave a lot of thought about what would she like to do in college, it took her almost a century to narrow down the list to fifty career paths she would consider to think about, but in this brief time she realized she doesn't have to consider anything. It was clear for her, once high school is over she would choose something very much like this, catching bad guys, protecting those who can't take care of themselves, saving people!

A career path is never an easy choice, but this felt so natural to her, so right, that she would not dare to give it a second thought.

Deadfinitely, this was her true calling.

But back to the Headmistress…

"I want every student back in the school… NOW!" Shouted so loud it almost felt like the earth just trembled.

Their hearts fraught with dread. Even Devon, Scarah and Rochelle could hear it despite being almost thirty meters away from the party already.

Wasting no time, all of the students run, or fly (depending on what they are, of course), back into the school, as fast as their drunken bodies would allow them to.

By the time they all get back inside, Rochelle and Scarah were back into their bedrooms, while Devon drives back to his house.

Once inside the school, Headless Headmistress Bloodgood scolds her students in a way she never thought she'd have to.

"This kind of behavior is not only regrettable and decadent, is… is… is unacceptable and beyond reckless!" Yelled savagely with all her lungs. "This shall have dire repercussions in all of you, I can assure you that. But right now I am so mad with you by the very thought of what you've done, the IDIOCY of your actions and your inexcusable conduct, I can't possibly think straight. So before I do something I shall regret next week, you will all go back into your rooms, and those who don't live here shall stay in my office as I call your parents to come for you," she glared at them with such anger it seemed as she wanted to eat them at that very second. "And if I see you going anywhere but your bedrooms, I swear I shall chase you the way my brother does, and it will be OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!" She screamed so loud, her voiced echoed in their heads. "And you…" she glared at Clawdeen and her ghoulfriends to say in a voice with cold fury, "I want you at my office… first thing tomorrow at eight."

The sound of her voice casting that sentence frightened them beyond anything they had experienced all evening.

It did not occur to the ghouls — to any student for a second to disobey. Half of them moved slowly to their rooms in the east wing, shaking, and looking down at the floor, while the ghouls, our oh-so-favorite ghouls, who didn't live in the school as well as the other half of the students, walked in the opposite direction, heading for her office where Bloodgood would make the so dreaded call to their parents.

One thing was clear, they had no way out of this. What punishment could they expect from their parents tonight? Clawdeen knew she couldn't expect much mercy from her father Clawrk, he would gut her alive and then lock her in her room until she grew as old as her great-great-great "grandwolf" Harriett; he has always been quite temperamental, specially with this kind of things, but maybe, and just maybe he would listen and give her a lightest punishment.

Lala on the other wing, knew for _sure_ her father Dracula, will not grant her any mercy and her only hope was to get Ramoanah, her dearest new stepmomster, to hear what she has to say and bite some sense into him before he stabs her with a White Oak ash-coated dagger,locking her inside her coffin, and burying her one hundred feet beneath the basement for the next three hundred years. Poor Lala almost bursts into tears; she's always been so prone to that.

And Gil… as if he doesn't get enough beating at home as it is.

Lorna and Lagoona believed it for sure that he wasn't coming back next week…

Would they even give them the chance to explain this wasn't their fault and they had nothing to do with it and that they were only caught in that crazy party and they never wanted to be in it?

 _Right, because parents are known for listening to their children._

20 September.

The previous night, the ghouls were unable to sleep, haunted by the silent rage of their parents. They were so mad none of them could utter any sound on the way back, except for Viktor (Frankie's father) who would let out a mechanical growl all the way to their fenced house every few minutes, and no punishment was dictated that night, only the sickly silent promise that they would as soon they could talk to them, posing, fluttering over their head as a grim shadow casted upon them, but it was insignificant next to the greater and darker shadow of death and tragedy that has settled upon the school this month.

And then there was Bloodgood, who asked to meet them at her office today… on a Saturday, like things weren't bad enough now they had to waste a weekend at school, not like they would do much though, but is a Saturday nonetheless.

They just couldn't understand why were they being sent to her office. They didn't start that party, they wanted to leave — escape! They were so not responsible for that madness.

Why was she blaming them for that in the first place?

 _Would it have something to do with the fact they solve everything with a party?_

Well, whatever her reasons were, they were soon to find out, only they weren't quite sure they wanted to. How they wished to have stayed with Ghoulia, studying for next week's _Mad Science_ test.

"I suppose you are wondering why I called you ghouls here?"

The sound of her voice was even more frightening than the previous evening.

Bloodgood narrowed her eyes. Clawdeen's throat went dry.

"Honestly, after all these years I just go with it." Clawdeen said with all the toughness she could muster.

"Yeah, me too." Draculaura agreed, nodding her head.

Bloodgood sighs deeply. "Why is it that when something happens it is always you ghouls? Specially the five of you," she gleamed at Clawdeen, Lala, Lagoona, Cleo and Frankie.

The three look at each other with a look that said _What the…? Well, she's right on that._

"Believe me Professor, I've been asking myself the same question for the last four years." Lala exposed.

"Because… we're the most prominent figures of the school?" Frankie said with a nervous smile.

"Headmistress Bloodgood, if you believe we had anything to do with that party, let me tell you right now, we're not responsible for that madness." Clawdeen was quick to say.

"Is true," Cleo backed her up. "We went there because they said they'd be making a kind of memorial for Holt and Jackson… before the real funeral, but then somehow it all turned into a party — a party that we wanted to leave. I know is a sentence I don't use to often, but is the truth. I swear on my future crown."

"But with all that people dancing, we couldn't possibly leave." Blue added.

The headmistress looks at them with a frown emblazoned on her forehead.

"I want to believe you, but this has your signature all over it."

"What? Just because we like partying we're automatically the ones to blame?!" Clawdeen barked with anger and defiance behind her voice. "That is a stupid prejudice, and if I'd believe anyone is above that, it would be you!"

"What about last year's New Moon Dance?"

"That was Romulus who brought the Vodka! Not us!"

"So you had nothing to do with this? You swear on your lives, or unlives?"

"We do," Frankie said, followed by her friends.

All of the ghouls stared back at Bloodgood, determined not to blink, or to look guilty.

"Well, I am very glad to hear that… I believe you." She said surprisingly calm.

Her voice sounded much sweeter and compassionate as usual.

"Not fair! We had nothing to do with it! We wanted to leave — and did you just say you believe us?" Clawdeen said in shock.

"I know this might seem to have your signature, but I also know you would never try to do something as stupid as the events of last night."

"So we're not in trouble?" Frankie asked.

"Not with me at least. You're not living at the school after all, so you didn't break the curfew — but I am sure your parents still have something to say about this. It is up to them to decide whether to ground you for going there last night, or not." Bloodgood finished.

"I knew it was too good to be real," Lala said.

"What a drag." Clawdeen said with arms crossed, sinking in her chair.

"Don't worry, I'll speak to your parents and let them know you weren't involved with that party. Maybe then they'll go easy on you. Now, answer me one question, what where you thinking when you went there last night?"

"I just went because Gil said he wanted to go." Blue explained. "He didn't think he could bare the real funeral, so he thought this might be a good test or something like that."

"And Abbey just made presence in that act of grievance because her boyfriend Heath said he would be lighting up the fire, and needed to be there in case he burned something else." Abbey retorted.

Headmistress sighed, rubbing her temples with her head on the table. "Oh, my Goth… this generation is so…" she sighed deeply again.

"Wait, if you're not going to ground us, what do you want from us then?" Lala asks.

"I called you here because I'm worried about a particular friend of yours, who is clearly the one with more problems… and the one who needs your help the most," she said looking her silhouette reflected on the window of her door as she waited outside. "I called Mr. Phantom last night. Sadly he is out of reach, since he is in a tour in Europe, so I hoped you could help me with Operetta."

Clawdeen asks in bafflement and slight indignation "So, you first accuse us of starting that party and now you want our help for an intervention?"

"Yes. That sums it up."

"…Okay, then…"

Standing smack-dab in the middle of the hall, the SST was surprised by just how dire the mood at Monster High had become. Far away were the toothy smiles, flashing fangs, bright eyes, and flowing hair, having been replaced with furrowed brows, frowns, and limp locks.

But whereas everyone was down, Keith, who had only frown upon everything since his first day, was now smirking, sporting a grin from ear to ear, just as a _cheshire_ cat, in a disturbing contrast to the general population.

"God, I love it when everyone wakes up drunk, with hangover and miserable except me," he laughed. He was wearing his usual hooded shirt and a leather jacket with his usual colors: purple and black. "I mean, ain't that an ironical turn of events? Here they are hangovered as hell after a single night of drinking, whereas I, who drink all day, am fresh as a lettuce." He grinned wildly.

"Shut up." Rochelle glared at him.

"Not a big fan of irony, eh? Nah, I can't blame you."

"I don't think they're down for the hangover." Devon adds. He wore a simple outfit: a fitted white shirt with brown pants, as opposed to his usual attire consisting of three or two piece suits with stronger and even darker colors.

"Well, not _only_ … I got it these idiots got caught by Bloodgood in a party last night in the woods. I mean, seriously, have they never seen The Creeper, or… the Jason saga? Or just about any slasher movie ever! That's how they all begin, it spells kill us in big bright neon letters. They're lucky she didn't harvest their heads like her brother."

"That's kinda like what I said," Scarah sounded.

"Yeah…" he sighed. "That further proves why I hate parties. They bring only misery and trouble. And I got enough of it as it is."

" _Right, this mood has nothing to do with the other recent events, you know like the death of our friends._ " Ghoulia moaned.

"Oh, yeah… that too… Death can be a real bummer." Keith said, unaware that Mr. D'eath was sliding behind them.

"Well, thank you Mr. Morningstar," he drawled his word with his usual gloomy mood, which was in fact brighter than the students' mood.

"Oh, I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about the job your relatives do. Uh. They don't happen to outsource serial killers like Unknown, or… Charles Manson? No? Ok."

"…I am glad I don't have an appointment with any of you. See you later Ms. Goyle, have a good day Mr. Darkholme." He greeted nodding his head at them, then looked at Scarah and Ghoulia from under his hood as if he wanted to say good bye to them too, but held himself from doing so.

It was clear he didn't know their names, or at least their last names.

" _What was that?_ " Ghoulia yelped.

"Wow, I know he was supposed to be a Grim Reaper, but that guy is a real bummer. And he's supposed to be the counselor? I mean, it wouldn't kill him to smile every once in a while," Keith said, getting a strange look from Devon.

"What?!"

"Y'know, that thing you do with your face and lips whenever you try to pick up a chick, or… pretend you're happy."

"I know what a smile is, I tell you to do that all the time and… you know what? Forget it."

"How comes he doesn't know my last name, but he know yours?" Scarah asked offended.

"Because I treat him as a person, maybe?"

"Yeah right…" Keith whispered.

"Say, you said you'll give us the day off and we are classless today," Scarah said, "so why did you call us?"

Keith immediately replies "Because I finished the list of possible victims, something you need to know now, only question is how do you wanna do this? Do I give you the list now, or do you wanna check it later?"

" _Why wait?_ "

"Well, is Saturday, and other than Jackson and D.J.'s funeral, there is nothing else to do," Scarah said quickly. "I see no reason to wait."

"Not true," Rochelle corrected her. "We still got to do our homework. Or are you going to tell me you're done with Mr. Hax's assignment?"

"You kidding?" She argued.

"Just because we're tasked to stop that murdered," she whispered so no one else would hear her, "doesn't mean we're supposed to forget our studies. Homework must still be done, even in the face of great uncertainty," stated stoically.

"Isn't homework supposed to be done at _home_?" Keith mutters, almost to himself.

"Janey mack, Rochelle, you make it sound like we're going to war," Scarah says, almost afraid of the tone she took.

"She makes it sound like she needs help with her homework." Keith smirked.

" _Peut-être_." She said with her gaze down. "I might need some help with the biteology assignment."

"Damn! I forgot about that." Scarah exclaimed, almost shrieking in worry.

"And you're not exactly a major on that," Keith laughed. "Don't worry sweethearts, I already finish it last night. I can help you with it." Keith offered.

"Keith, don't take this the wrong way, but… I don't trust you." Rochelle said sounding as politely as she could. "Besides, how could you finish it last night if you were working on the list?"

"I multitask."

"I can help you if you want. I also finished mine last night after… you know." Devon said waving his black notebook, which he carried in case he needed to write something down.

Apparently, he only used one notebook for almost everything.

"Thanks," she said taking it.

"All settled then, you take the boss, I'll take this boyo over here," Scarah said hooking Keith's arm. "And we meet upstairs once we're done with it."

" _Oui, peut importe_." Said Rochelle oblivious to the conversation, reading Devon's notebook.

" _You guys go do that, I will go see how are the ghouls doing._ "

"Okay. I guess I'll see you upstairs before lunch then, and… put on your best faces," said Keith with a shit-eating grin, leaving with Scarah.

08:15 A.M.

In the Libury, Scarah copies Keith's answers, who happened to have them in his man purse which he seemed to carry around all the time now she thinks about and in fact he never leaves his apartment without it, barely changing some words to make it look like her own answers.

"You got a beautiful handwriting." She said, looking at his surprisingly elegant and refined cursive letter of which she almost feels zealous.

"Thanks. I think is a shame the way schools disregard the most basic of education and teach such an insipid and conformist handwriting. They wouldn't even teach kids how to write properly, only the basic shape of a letter and they're done, I mean what's style for? Elegance what? Well, I guess you won't need those if you'll work in a gas station. I always believed this is the way real men should write. With class and elegance even if they're thugs; words are made by combined letters, therefore they should be linked as one in a refined way."

"Oh my, you're a little Mr. Chatterbox, aren't you?"

"Only when I feel in the mood."

"And just to be clear, why is it you're so cheer now? I got it you don't care much about what happened to Deuce, or D.J. because you are not friends with them, but… With everyone this depressed, I can't see how anyone can be so happy…"

"What can I say? I'm a bit of trickster myself. There is something about seeing people in misery that makes me feel so much better with myself. A gloom reminder I'm not the only one who suffers. But then again, it could be I just look cheerier by comparison."

Scarah's eyes widened. "Well, since you put it that way…"

"Of course, if you want me to shut up…"

"No, no! Is ok. Actually… I'm kinda glad you feel like that. I mean, like talking with me. I don't usually get to chat that much around here anyway."

"How come? A cute chick like you that looks straight out of an _Austin Powers_ movie, surely gets a lot of guys throwing some bad pick up lines at you. And pick up some… 70's thoughts every now and then."

"Thanks for what I want to believe is a compliment in your mind, but that is not the case, because as you know, I'm a banshee."

"And as you know, I'm a human. This is fun. Care to share something not so obvious?"

"See, as a banshee I don't really use me speaking voice very much at school because all the other monsters take everything I say like it's their own personal death omen. Literally. Only ones I can talk to are ghosts like me."

"You are a ghost? Thought it was a misinterpretation," Said touching the area between her neck and breasts. "You seem very solid to me…"

Scarah looks at him peeved. "How cute." Said she.

Then he begins pinching her stomach, causing her tickles.

"Except here. Here you're quite soft…"

"Enough. Knock it off!" She laughed, getting shushed by the librarian.

"I could use your stomach as pillow." Keith whispered trying not to laugh.

"As if." She laugh-whispered.

"Oh, no. I totally would, I'd better watch me when I'm sleepy if I were you."

"I think I will," said smiling.

"So, you were saying."

"Right…" she continued writing as she explained to him her dilemma, "see, when it comes to pronouncements of doom, they're only intended for humans, uh, very specific families we work with. You gotta be Irish to apply for a banshee, and it's often a blood-related thing…" she added quickly. "Of course, when I say 'we' I mean the adults in the family. I can only begin to apprentice until I'm at least a hundred."

"And you are…?"

"Not a hundred," said sharply. "Now you'd think other monsters would know this but you'd be wrong, so every time I say something out loud some monster believes what I said to mean something terrible is about to happen to them. 'Tis complete nonsense of course, but the more I try and convince them of that, the worse I usually end up making it."

"So you use your inner voice instead."

"You guessed right. Actually I wouldn't be surprised you stop talking to me after this."

"Why would I?"

"So… you're not afraid of —"

"You said it yourself. _'Tis superstitious nonsense_." He cuts her off.

"Didn't say superstitious."

"I always knew that you are supposed to predict doom for normies… I just didn't care, we're partners in this… whatever the hell that experiment is, and communication is important. Also you are a cute ghoul…"

"Woa, thanks…" said she, with a coy smile, pulling her hair behind her left ear.

"Or maybe… is just a wishful thinking," said he, with a sly smile. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna take a walk around here. Looking into the ancient culture and history section, it might come in handy for a history essay or something."

"Right… I'm… gonna stay here and finish this. Hey, maybe later you can help me study for Mr. Hackington's test."

"Yeah, I don't need to study, I got that test in the bag."

Upstairs, on the East wing, Rochelle takes Devon into her room so he can help her with the assignment.

"Here, this way," said on the stairs, taking him by the hand.

"Are you sure I should be here? This is the ghouls area," he argued.

" _Oui_ , _c'est bon_. We're not supposed to bring any boys here, but…" she stopped for a moment and looked around to make sure no one was watching then then kept forging ahead toward the dormitory, "there are no teachers looking and my roommate is a cool ghoul. She won't tell anyone. Besides, is not like we're going to do anything wrong, we're just going to study, right?"

"Right…"

Inside her room, they find Robecca, laying on her canopy bed, playing with her mechanical penguin Captain Penny.

"Oh, hi guys…" she greeted shyly, looking at Rochelle holding Devon's hand.

"Hi, Robecca." Said Devon.

"Are you two… going to do something here? Should I leave?" She asked in a strange tone. "'Cause I could use some rounds in the Roller Maze right now."

At first they didn't understand what she was implying. Then they realized they were holding hands. It became clear then, she probably must have thought they were there together — as in together, _together!_ — for a sneak-in-and-make-out session… or maybe even another thing.

"Woa. _Non-non! Non_ … No… We were just going to study," Rochelle said, quickly letting his hand free.

"Yes. Is not what you think. I was going to help her with the biteology assignment." He explained promptly.

"Okay, and just what do you think I was thinking?" Asked wryly, sitting on the right side of her bed, slithering her copper plated feet into her boots.

"I… I don't know…" he sighed.

"Is okay guys, is not like I haven't noticed you two spend a lot of time together upstairs in the attic." Said walking towards the door. "You might wanna lock the door, though. Wouldn't want Venus to walk into your 'study' session. She isn't exactly flowery today," suggested as she closes the door behind her.

"You do not think she thinks we are…?"

" _Je ne sais pas_." She shrugged her shoulders.

Once they were left alone, Devon helps Rochelle with the assignment about Dragons and the temperature induced sex-change during their egg state, how does this affect and causes hermaphrodite dragons, and how different it is the way the change of temperature affects ice dragons from fire dragons.

After almost two hours straight, Devon points out something unusual he noted on Rochelle's behavior, something that went almost unnoticed for everyone else except for him.

"Okay, spit it out, what is troubling you?" He asked, sitting next to her on the floor, leaning against her bed.

"What? No-nothing… why would you say that?" She stammered.

"Rochelle, I know a thing or two about basic psychology. I can tell you're sad about something."

" _Non, je ne suis._ "

"Please, don't French-lie to me. I can see you got the unmissable signs of sadness. I see them on Kiki all the time: your whole body is drooping — and don't tell me is because you're 'too heavy for your size —, your eyes are awfully unfocused, specially considering the topic we're dealing with. Back in the halls you wouldn't stare at anything specific, you were just staring down, also I noted your movements and breathing are slower than usual. In other words… you are sad, why?" Are you upset for leaving your friends behind last night? Or is it just… all of it?"

"Say, you never cease to amaze me." Rochelle admitted with a faint smile. "You're right, I feel terrible for leaving Clawdeen and the ghouls last night at the mercy of the Headless Headmistress… and as I said it out loud, I realized it almost sounds as a bad joke," she giggled.

"No… it completely sounds as a bad joke." He chuckled back.

Rochelle sighs deeply, putting down her pen. "I know it might seem a little foolish to beat myself about something like that… but abandoning my friends to their luck in such situation… is just not who I am. It goes against my whole identity, specially after all we've lived together."

"So you are conflicted. I've been there. God, I can't image what you would be like if it had been the cops."

"Why do I feel Keith has put you there?"

Devon raises his hand as he's about to answer, but mulls on to it for a few seconds before saying "I can't say, won't deny…"

"But is not just that, is al of it, this whole, uh, let's say job. This feeling that I can't protect them from this danger."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Rochelle, when you joined the SST you wanted to keep your friends safe because that's just the kind of person you are, protecting and watching over those whom you love is encoded in your DNA. But when you did, you never thought you would have to protect them from a threat like this, only from themselves — from bullies, cheating, or simply doing something dangerously stupid in the halls like shooting theirs balls with paintball guns, or from that dragon that for whatever reason I cannot wrap my mind around, is locked in second floor. And you never thought there would be something you couldn't protect them from, let alone something this dire. Now you look around these days… it's all different. It's all changed… your daily reality has been twisted upside down into something that should not be with this stranger you can't possibly protect them from, who devalues the lives of your friends as part of a personal vendetta in which they aren't involved… and as tough as you are, that breaks your heart."

Rochelle was speechless.

"Is almost as if you could read my soul," she said even more impressed than before.

"Of course, I also noticed it's not all suffering. Since the first day we worked together I could see that little spark in your eyes, you like what we are doing. The hunt for clues to solve this puzzle, the interrogations, the search for suspects… protecting your friends in a whole new way."

" _Oui_ … I must admit… even though the situation is most horrible… I really enjoy doing this kind of job. It is the only thing I have done that makes my spirit soar above the clouds, so high it almost touches the sun, and sink into an endless dark ocean of despair where it begs uselessly for air, all at the same time. How can you do this? I know you go with your father on his cases sometimes…"

"Because this is who I am too. I just know ever since I was a kid, this is what I wanted to do, to help people, to protect them…" he pauses for a moment. "Instead of just sit and think of all the lives that ended prematurely and the tears of the grief stricken survivors and relatives, saying how sad nobody could stop it, hoping one day things will get better on their own, and then one day realize that I could have made something different, something to stop it… Or I could go to bed, not hoping but _knowing_ that the ones responsible for such tragedies had their comeuppance, that for the wrong they did, they have been punished rightly. To be part of the change."

Mesmerized, she sighs thinking _Il est extrêmement beau, and has such a passion for justice that I've never seen in anyone… I just wish I could_ —

"I just got one question. I — I mean, seriously, who keeps a wild dragon in a school? I mean, is not a student like Jinafire. Is a giant savage beast waiting for a student to open the wrong door and chomp him."

"I made myself that question everyday for a year. But then I just went with it."

It was strange somehow. Having this conversation with him, fills her heart with something she hasn't felt in what feels like years now: hope that they might stop this criminal and make him pay for his crimes. But there was more, at this point there was no mistaking, she was in love with Devon.

 _Garrott who?_

Forget it about him! He is who decided their relationship couldn't keep going with such a big distance between them, and after all those years she spent waiting for him, she wouldn't get a say in the matter?! Shame on him, _monsieur_ I'm going to Boo York this year.

But then again, is not like being his ghoulfriend, even when he was missing — not missing, kidnapped! — stopped her from falling in love with Deuce, did it?

Oh well, I guess the heart wants the heart desires — or something like that, specially when is a French stone heart with so much love to give.

10:12 A.M.

Once homework was finished, the SST meets upstairs where Keith proudly presents to his mates his list of would-be-victims.

"Ladies and gentleman, prepare your eyes to behold something not all mortal eyes are able to see. Which is why is a good thing most of you aren't. As you know, I was tasked with making a list of all those who would be in immediate danger of being sacrificed, for I am the only one capable of understanding — of thinking the same way as a criminal, and now I present to you…" he paused by several seconds for dramatic effect, irritating his partners. "The List… the name is still a working title, I accept suggestions," said taping the smartboard.

"I think is a fitting one," said Devon.

"Yeah, how did you ever come up with that?" Rochelle sounds.

"I was between The List and The Goners."

"Well, I think you made the right call," called, looking at the screen.

The list was split into three columns: ERUDITE, SLUTS, and VIRGINS (M.A.P.N.)

Afraid to ask, Rochelle poses the question "What does MAPN stand for?"

"Am glad you ask," he said with a smile.

"Oh, here we go…" Devon sighed with his arms crossed.

"MAPN stands for Must Ask their Phone Numbers. See, I usually prefer a girl with a little more experience, but sometimes is better to be with a girl that has no idea what to expect for, with no previous experience to compare, that way I am the one who sets the bar instead of getting an 'I've had better' kinda look." He explained.

The ghouls were jaw dropped.

" _I am speechless…_ " Ghoulia moaned.

 _"That's because you're a zombie."_ He groaned.

"Janey mack, that is…I'm guessing you've been there." Scarah inquired.

"More times than I wish I had, but not enough to turn gay… anyhow…"

"I must say… this time you have managed to surprise me." Devon said with an awe-struck face.

"Thanks."

"I mean, this… has got to be a whole new level of low for you."

"Wait till you see the names." He grinned.

"Oh, I can't wait." Rochelle said sarcastically, looking at Scarah and Ghoulia.

Tapping the columns, he reveals the names of those he believed would be the following victims of _Unknown_.

The first name in the list was Ghoulia Yelp as the Erudite.

" _You think I'll be one of the next sacrifice? Why, thank you! That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me._ " The ghouls look at her confused. " _Well, he's saying I'm smart enough to be a sacrifice that represents intelligence._ "

"Of course… what were we thinking?" Scarah says.

They continue reading the names in the Slut part.

"Toralei Stripes, not a surprise there," Rochelle comments honestly, "Purrsephone, Meowlody, Amanita Nightshade, again… not a surprise there. Gory Fangtell —"

"I must say, I don't even have to read her name to know she was here." Scarah says.

So far, everything seemed to add up, until they read the last name.

The very second she saw it, Rochelle sprang to her feet, glaring at him so fiercely that Devon saw, for the first time since they've met, the shadow of her tue demon nature upon her pretty face. But Keith had such serenity, he almost seemed to have this planed out and marching as he expected.

"Operetta? How can you suggest that?" She shouted.

"…Of course she had to be there," Scarah sighed.

"What? You think she shouldn't be here? 'Cuz I'd like to hear a reason why, keeping in mind she is now the most downloaded topless video of the week."

Rochelle wanted to argue, but truth is he was right to put her in that list, or at least after last night strip-tease show. And it didn't surprised them to see the picture he used was the same topless picture uploaded in the Gory Gazette.

Clearly he had been checking the website — the picture and the whole video! Only thing stopping her from doing something worse at that party was Bloodgood's sudden arrival.

Silently, Devon feared this might be another one of his "behavioral experiments."

Calmly, he lays his hand on her shoulder and asks her to calm down and sit again. With just simply looking at her in the eye, there was something about him, he had such a soothing energy…

She takes in a deep breath and manages to hold herself.

On the Virgin column they had many more familiar names: Clawdeen Wolf, Lagoona Blue, Venus McFlytrap, then her own name, Rochelle Goyle. She felt a little frightened to see she could be next, but then again why wouldn't she? Or maybe a better question is, how relayable was this list?

The last name was Twyla.

After finishing reading the list, the girls take a moment to process… this…

"Okay… so, this is, according to your _folie_ twisted mind, the most likely to die next," Rochelle said as calm as she could.

"The most likely to be sacrificed. Yep."

"Question, and I know it might sound strange, why isn't Draculaura in the virgin list?" She asked.

Keith giggled. "You know, for a girl made of granite, you're very sweet. I'll explain — don't be fooled, there are many girls here sexually active and many other virgins, but only this few look good as a carcass, and I mean the kind that doesn't move. If I were him, I would target one of these ghouls. Why? Because they would make for the funniest and most ironical deaths."

"All right… I'll go with the obvious question, how do you suggest we keep them safe?" Scarah asked. "We cannot exactly put them under preventive custody, and we can't lock all of them in the same room. Some might even kill each other."

"Well at first I thought we'd have to lock them in the catacombs. But after the events of last night, do you really believe Bloodgood would leave any of the students that live here out of her sight? Or that those who live with their parents would be anywhere but in their rooms for the next hundred years?" retorted with a grin plastered all over his face.

"Wait, are you telling me you had something to do with what happened last night?!" Asked Rochelle.

"Well, that would be neat, but also an stretch, don't you think? Do you really suggest I expected — or planned on Holt's friends to throw a little tribute for him in the woods at night despite having a killer on the loose, that would then turn into a party with alcohol brought by an irresponsible girl, then tell Bloodgood about it while is happening so all the students are caught red handed and pantless, thus getting them grounded and safe in their respective homes or in-rooms? Come on girl, that is preposterous. I mean, are you really suggesting that I can somehow manipulate chance? No, that is what I call a happy coincidence; I mean, I'm smart but not enough, that's just a fortunate series of events," said Keith with an undeletable sly smirk in his lips. "Of course, that is only a temporary solution, we know he's well determined, so this won't stop him any more than a week while he works on a way to get into the castle or their homes, if we're that lucky of course. And that is a big if."

" _Frankly, I don't believe he will take that long in penetrating this place. He could easily turn into a ghost or an invisible man to break in and out, unseen._ " Moaned Ghoulia.

"Well, thanks for killing the optimism, because if not me, who else?" He snarled wildly. "True he could. But he only kills when his pray is alone and vulnerable and with all the students here, that would be too much of a risk, a werewolf could sniff his presence or _Marvel Girl_ over here could read his mind, warn the others and ruin his plan."

"You're right, but if he gets to them quickly, having all students in here could also play on his favor. The way he leaves the bodies are to ensure not only as much dread and chaos as possible but to send a message, that no one is safe," Devon adds. "Deuce was left in the entrance for all students and teachers to see, and Holt in the floor of the studio deep inside the catacombs where he thought he wouldn't get caught according to Operetta's statement."

Then Keith realized something at last. "You will not let me have this one, will you? Luckily for you, I got another plan to keep them safe and shut your mouth: you ghouls take those who live here and lock them in a room with some girly excuse like a slumber party or what have you, while we stake out on those who don't. And if we find the motherfucker, we shoot him the face and problem resolved."

The rest of the team stares at him peeved, Devon sighs arm crossed.

How could he even come up with such a plan and call it a plan?

This is when it hits Rochelle clear in the head, "Oh, I got it now… You are crazy," said she. "I had an uncle like this once… until he jumped in a lake thinking he could bounce and skid to the other side like a pebble. He was wrong and so wrong, he sunk right to the bottom. Even to these days, when we think of him we can't help to feel both, sad and humored at the time."

The rest of the group looks at her with a confounded look in their faces.

"What? He isn't the only with weird and funny comments. I can be fun too."

"Girl, you don't have to convince me you are. You're my most solid material for jokes in this place." Keith laughed.

Rochelle glares at him peeved and arm folded.

"Ha, ha."


	10. Chapter 10

X

Salem, Oregon.

6 Years ago…

"It's all a lie! It is all a fucking lie I'm telling you! We were never going to solve anything! We could never change the world. They would never let us change it! You know why?! Because this world is theirs! The only way we could change it, is if we kill them! And I swear I will hunt and KIll each and every single one of them! I will slaughter every one of them with my bare hands! I will burn their world, reduce it to ashes… and build a new one from scratch… " Richard shouted; nothing could stop the feeling, the anger wrapping and coiling in his insides, burning in his chest, filling the terrible emptiness, the unbearable void left in his heart by the dead of his wife.

"Richard, calm down," said an old friend and member of NUDI. "I understand how you feel, but what you're saying is —"

"Don't come and tell me you know how I feel! You can never possibly begin to understand how I feel!" Said throwing everything on his friend's table: pictures, papers, computer, lamps…

"You are right… I could never hope to imagine your pain. But understand, suffering like this proves you are still a man — that you are alive! This pain is part of being human —"

"You don't understand. That is the reason why they killed her, because I am a human. And if that's the reason why WE couldn't be together THEN — I — DON'T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!" He roared at everyone in the office. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF this Shit, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DO ANYMORE — I — JUST — DON'T!" screamed, so loudly that they feared the windows might shatter.

The anger — this white-hot anger growing, bubbling in his chest erupted as a volcano, raining upon those who were once his friends.

This moment was recorded forever in their minds, as well as the security cameras in the office. A video that was never seen by anyone else, and remained stashed as a secret inside a safe, until Devon called asking about Richard Wayne.

Is only because of the dire situation that Monster High is going through and Devon's trustworthy nature that he was given the only copy of this video for his investigation. And when he saw the video, he was left in awe.

"So basically, his last words before quilting were: I'm done with this shit, I'm done living a lie, I'll show the world the truth, and another bunch of words like those." He explained to Keith as he paused the video.

"Can you go back to the part where he throws everything in the room? That was my favorite part. I can relate to the feeling," Keith said slyly with a grin, biting a Hershkey white chocolate bar, those with the little chocolate cookie chips inside. Devon sighed exasperated. "Just to be clear, why are we watching this?"

"This confirms what we already know, that he is Unknown."

"And that doesn't answer my question, why are we watching this? And why do the ghouls get a day off and we don't?" He persisted his inquiry.

"Because they're going to Jackson and Holt's funeral…"

"And…?"

"And because they have seen enough…"

"Aha…!"

"Look, I gave them the day off for the funeral and because they need a break from all of this, okay? Besides, we don't need them for this, we already know who we're looking for, we can finish this ourselves now. As we always do."

"So basically, this is going to be just as the old times, alone to be you and me…"

"You can say that. Yes."

"Not a good excuse to stay here at the school, where we don't have a room, on a Saturday."

"Like you're not used to it." He remarked derisively.

"I already showed them the list an hour ago, which means I should've been home an hour ago. Is this your payback for the zoo thing? Cuz that was a long time ago."

Devon sighs with his arms crossed. "Just help me set up a trap for this bastard."

"So we're going with my plan, eh?"

"Plan? What plan? Your mean using the students we want to protect as bait for a preposterous half-thought plan that would never work?"

"Same as you would."

"No _…_ I would never admit I used them as bait. I got an image to keep," he announced.

"Right. I forgot… How are we doing that anyway? We don't know _when_ he'll strike next, or _where_ exactly, it could be here, it could be in their home or even at the funeral!" Keith asked.

"I don't think so, you said it yourself, he only attacks when his victims are vulnerable and alone." Devon reminded him. "And so far he only performs sacrifices at night."

"Something I guess must be for convenience."

They stare into the screens analyzing all the clues they have so far in order to figure out where, when and who he will strike next, hoping to do it in time.

"Who would you kill next?" Devon asked. "Personally I would go for Amanita, all I can hear the girls say about her is that she is a _unique kind of_ _bitch_. Their exact words, not mine."

"I'd have to go for Toralei or Operetta," he said promptly, "you know how I love a sexy redhead chick, and I'm guessing he does too. You don't marry a cherry-redhead unless you're really into them."

"Yes, but he is not killing women to get back at some redhead woman who broke his heart. That type of victimology doesn't fit him," countered immediately. "Of course their past and recent actions make them fit the victim profile we're looking for."

"Don't forget about Gory… Lemme tell you, I wouldn't keep my silver claws off her devilishly pretty face either."

"And so we narrow the list… by eliminating two." Devon said, crossing Purrsephone and Meowlody. "Did I tell you she offered to bite my neck? When a vampiress like her offers such thing, it usually means _other_ thing," he chuckled.

"That's my boy…" Keith laughed. "Now, back to you ghouls, which one of you shall die next…? I'm sure Gory surely deserves, or Toralei after all the things they've done, but Operetta pretty much yelled 'pick me, pick me!' last night with that dance. Hmm… that's the worse part of being a serial killer, to ask yourself who should I kill next?"

"Yes…" agreed Devon. "How can we protect a victim when we don't know who she is?"

"How can we protect a victim when if we're not cops?"

The guys mull on to that for a few minutes… then stare at each other, with a look pn their eyes, as though they shared the same thought.

"So… do you want to take a lunch break?" Devon suggests.

"Yeah, that would nice." Keith said, getting off the chair.

"Ok, then I will go get some food, you go drink a coffee and… whatever liquor you brought today, and meet me back here in an hour."

"Don't forget the extra onion rings this time."

"You know I'm the one who will have to work with your onion breathe all day, don't you? Don't answer that, you know." Devon complained.

"So… ice cream and cherry pies then?"

11:03 A.M.

Walking down the hallways, with his hood on and his head down, slouching as always, Keith was easily blending in with the rest of the gloomy students. Only thing different from them, other than being human, is that he walked facing his phone.

For the last fifteen minutes he had been texting with Clawdeen about her little misadventure from last night, the messages read like this:

 _So, I heard u got caught by Bloodgood last night dancing in the woods_

 _What? Now u_ _2? Pls, I beg u, I don't wanna hear any bad jokes about that_

 _Well, that's hurtful but fair_

 _I'm guessing u probably had enough Dancing with Wolves jokes anyway_

 _Where did u hear that anyway?_

 _U hear stuff like this rather quickly_ …

 _I was told_ _u_ _know how to move those hips_

 _1st off, I was not dancing, I was trying to_ _leav_ _e, and 2ly, yes, I know how to move._ _But not like u'll be seeing any of that soon_

 _U wish u could_

 _What a shame, good thing I'm not big for parties_ _…_ _so_ …

 _R u ok?_

 _Yea, I guess so_ …

 _My folks probably won't let_ _me_ _out for the next_ _100_ _freaking years after the funeral, just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that aside_ _I'm fine_

 _I guess you must know about that_ …

 _A bit, yeah_

 _Sorry to hear that, where r u at_ _now_ _?_

 _Skull. I gotta sort some things with HHB_

 _Great, c u at the cemetery in 10_

 _Wait, u here_ _2_ _? Y?_

 _P.I. business, I can tell u_ _about it_ _if_ _u want_

 _U won't b asking me fr slutty girls again, will you?_

 _Nah. Got it covered_

 _Fine. C_ _u_ _there then_

Minutes after sending that text, he sees her in the cemetery with Frankie, Draculaura, Lagoona, Ghoulia and Abbey. Then, walking very carefully, with the stealth of a master thief, he sneaks up behind her ready to blow into her ear.

"You better think it twice before doing whatever is it you have in mind," she half-barked having smelled him the moment he set foot on the cemetery, arms folded, then pulled her hair asking "how you doing?"

"I'm fine. But then again, I'm not grounded," he smirked.

"Is that why you called me here? To make fun of my situation?"

"Come on, do you really think that low of me? I called you here because I thought you would, I don't know… like to talk about it?"

"Right… there's not much to talk about it really…"

"Say mate, aren't you gonna introduce us to your, uh… friend, person — whatever you guys are?" Lagoona asked.

"Right, ah, ghouls this is Keith, sure you remember him from his remarkable speech and the way he ditched us during the welcoming tour. Keith, these are my ghoulfriends: Lagoona," Blue waved her hand friendly and stretched for a hand-shake, which he awkwardly does, "Draculaura —"

"Please, call me Lala," she said quickly, also shaking his hand. Her hand was tiny, soft, delicate… and very cold… cold as a dead body, and he knew how cold they could be.

Clawdeen continued introducing her friends.

"This is Abbey," they both stare at each other in a strange way, without saying a word, yet, understanding they didn't have to, "and of course, you already know Ghoulia and Frankie."

"Hi. I'm surprised to see you here… on a Saturday," Frankie chuckled nervously.

"I can say the same."

"Yeah, we… had some things to discuss with the principal. We got in some troubles last night."

"Yeah, well… I… also got some business to attend here…" said lowly, words almost drawled.

Then quickly, Clawdeen realized "Are you… having that feeling where want to jump out of a window again?"

"Yes… you can say that," admitted getting a confounded look from the other ghouls. "I was out for my coffee break, but now I think a little whiskey break would come in handy, or a vodka break, even a tequila break…"

"Isn't a bit too early to drink?" Lagoona asked.

"Is almost noon, and even if not… I always held believe it depends on what schedule your brain works on. Right now it is nine o'clock somewhere in my brain. I'm guessing the frontal lobe."

"Right… I think a _rehabilitation_ break could suit you better." Clawdeen replied.

"Now, hold on, we can only make one intervention at the time," Lala said.

"Oh, I remember my first intervention," said with a hint of longing.

"You've been through it? Of course you have," sighed Clawdeen.

"Yep. Apparently people loves it when you do magic tricks on the streets, making people's phones and money disappear, but when you accidentally set somebody's probably fake blonde hair on fire, it suddenly becomes an issue that 'hurts everyone around you,' and must be put to an end."

The ghouls look at him confused.

"Do I have to worry about that?" Lagoona asked, stepping back, with her hands on her hair as though to protect it from him.

"Don't worry. I can see you're natural blond."

"Well, thank you. Nice to see somebody who doesn't think it's bleached by all the time I spend in the pool… or by my stylist."

"Also, I'm banned by court from performing any fire-related magic trick for the next three months or until I prove I am 'responsible enough' to play manipulate fire, which is a shame, 'cuz I had planned this trick in which I burn a diamond into smoke for months."

"Can you really do that?" Frankie asked, unable to hide her intrigue and excitement.

"Well, I also need a liquid oxygen tank, but yes."

"How does that work?"

"I can't say, it ruins the trick."

"And… what exactly are you doing here? I thought you didn't live in the school." Blue inquired.

"Neither do any of you."

" _Touché_ ," said Lala, "we… got in trouble."

"Because of the party, right?"

"You know about that?" Lala shrieked.

"Of course he does, in fact as far as I can tell, he is laughing inside." Clawdeen announced.

"No… I'm also laughing on the outside," he giggled. "Just trying to hold it."

"I guess you were right. Parties can make things worse," Frankie sighed. "I just don't get it — who the hell brings alcohol to a funeral?"

With a guilty, yet proudly look on his eyes and a grin, Keith raises his hand saying "To be fair, that's kind of a family tradition for me."

"I… was talking last night."

"Oh… then I got no idea."

"You want somebody to blame, that's Toralei." Clawdeen said.

"I knew she wasn't there for anything good." Frankie shouted. "Ok, your turn, why are you here?"

"I can't tell you all the details, but…" then he thought, maybe the ghouls could help him with his task. If anyone knew who was the bigger slut in school, it should be them; maybe that way he could narrow the Slut list to a single name. "If I told the next one to die in the school is pretty much a slut, who would you say it is?" He asked blunt and directly.

This time the ghouls weren't even confounded or in shock, they just immediately gave him a straight answer:

"Toralei." Lagoona snared.

"Dammit, what did tell you?" Clawdeen barked almost at the same time. "But yeah, Toralei."

" _Amanita._ " Ghoulia yelps. " _She has been trying to steal Deuce from Cleo since day one._ "

If he had asked her directly back when he showed them the list, this would have been her answer.

"Gory," Frankie spat, arms crossed and frowning.

"Well, is not like me to judge or anything. I… don't like the idea of tagging and pointing out anyone… but given everyone's giving a straight answer without much thought… yeah, I have to go with Gory," Lala said. "Or Amanita." Added quickly.

" _You say that because she still hasn't returned your clothes?_ "

"And tried to steal many other things. I'm sure Cleo would agree with me." Said surprisingly cold.

"I'm sure she's expecting it." Clawdeen snarled.

"Abbey has to say… any of the aforementioned." Abbey said.

"Well, thanks for this interesting insight in… I forgot the word I'm looking for. Anyhow, Keith Morningstar for the win," said raising his fist, glad to have the right names in his list, but disappointed that the number was the same. "Now this has been very helpful. Thanks, and good luck with whatever punishment your parents see fit for you," said Keith, walking backwards into the school.

It was clear he needed a new plan, and luckily he already had it.

"Okay… what was that about?" Blue inquired.

" _Uh… You don't want to know._ " Ghoulia moaned. " _We should be getting ready for the funeral…_ _you ghouls are coming, are you?_ "

"I should hope so…" Draculaura sighed.

12:10 P.M.

Standing outside the door of the SST quarter room, Devon, who had gone to buy something for him and Keith to eat while they decide how to keep the would-be victims safe, hears his friend talking with, what he guessed, was a girl.

" _…secret for it to be like extra foamy, is to shake it good and shake it hard. And you gotta use both hands for that._ "

" _Is it normal is leaking?_ "

" _Actually that means is pretty much done…_ "

"Please don't let this be what I think it is…" pleaded Devon, slowly turning the doorknob. Knowing his friend from all life, he naturally feared the worse. "Please don't let this be what I think it is…"

Quickly, he steps into the attic where he finds Keith with Toralei, Amanita and Gory.

"And that's how you get your milk with foam on top without having to heat it up or anything," said Keith, serving Toralei a densely foamy milk in the bottom half of a French Shaker, a two-piece cocktail shaker composed by a metal bottom and a metal cap, in case you needed to know. "Uh, hey! Look who is here! If no other than everyone's favorite band boy. Wait, I forgot, you can't sing. That's my thing," he grinned at him.

"So, you sing?" Amanita asks intrigued. "Um, maybe you could sing something to me later." said in _that_ tone pretty girls use to get what they want from guys.

"I usually sing in the shower, or to prove I'm better than others, although in your case I'll make an exception. But only because you're special and you deserve it."

"Now, you really are a smart guy. I'm starting to like you." She smirked.

Even though he was upset to see these ghouls here, he was glad to see he was wrong about what he thought was happening.

"Finally you grant us your presence." Gory said in a soft, silky voice. Sexy as only a vampire like her can be.

Toralei was exited with her drink. "My ghoul, you're good," said elated, taking a sip of her milk. "You know, I can never the foam at all."

"Yeah well, as I said, you need a strong grip for that," said Keith.

"How did you ever figure this out?"

"Let's say this is what I like to call a low budget milkshake, with only milk, sugar and shake. Of, course we're down on one ingredient, but… you should've asked for sugar."

"Good one," she purred with a devious smile curving in her face.

Leaning on the table, one of the three tables which Keith placed together to use as a makeshift bar, she almost seemed ready to jump on his lap and sleep on him as his cat does.

With a smile, he adds "Don't worry. I put a little special surprise for you."

Quickly, Gory raised from the table and walked towards Devon, hooking his arm with hers, taking him to were she was sitting. "I see you brought food. Good, 'cause I'm starving."

"Uh… this is… normal non-blood-filled, grassy food. I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be here," explained he, setting the food bags on the table.

"Don't worry, I brought my own blood sauce."

"Right… eh, would you excuse us for a moment?" Asked, freeing his arm from her grip.

"Sure…" said with a wistful, or rather lustful gaze.

"Keith, a word with you," he wiggled his finger at him and takes him out of the room. Once the door closes behind them, he begins his saying "Okay, I'm not even going to ask you how did you convince those girls to get inside that room. I am cursed with knowing your methods — girls like them are pretty much your element. So there is no point in asking how you got them into that room on their own will. What I want to know is why?"

"Why what? You know why."

"Honestly I don't. And I'm not even sure I want to know, but since it has become a long tradition of ours, for me to ask you questions with an answer I do not ever want to hear… why? Why would you bring them into that room, where we are to supposed to work on a murder case!?" He whisper-shouted exasperated.

"Uh, that… I think you already know. But well, since you insist… I brought them there to keep them safe. That's what we were arguing about."

"Keep them safe, eh?"

"Yep. You know me, always looking for a way to help others." States with a sly grin on his face.

"All right. I will bite. You keep them in here, we set watch all night assuming no teacher would notice we're here, or their absence. What was the next step of plan?"

"Oh, you know I never plan that far ahead. I always develop my plans on stages, along the way. I always change, improvise and adapt according to the situation."

"Of course. Where was my mind? Why would I think you gave this the slightest thought!?"

"Beats me. You should know me better than that."

Devon shakes his head even more exasperated. "Does the headmistress know about this?"

"Oh, does she? Are you out of your mind? I'm two steps away from turning that room into a bar to keep them inside, besides we're "undercover". Luckily I got a better plan for that. Remember last time we went to Lawndale?"

"No. No, no, no, no! You can't do that here. That… that is illegal."

"So is hacking into police files, but you don't mind Ghoulia doing it at your whim and desiree." Argued Keith.

"Fine. Do it your way, but I will not be part of this! And good luck trying to take classes without your pills."

"Actually I need you to be here. The reason why Amanita and Gory are here in the first place is because I told them you'd be spending quality time with us. They seem to be taking a real interest in you."

"As always… wait, what do you mean with that?"

"I mean, those two ghouls got it for you, man! Big time. Way to go with improving human and monster relationships! Uh… If you got a choice, take Gory first. She seems to like you more than she lets you know, and is almost seventeen hundred years old. That means she knows stuff." Explained with a grin getting a peeved look from him. "Now you're mad at me, I knew it,"

03:44 P.M. Cemetery for the Truly Gone.

In the black and white church that sat on top of one of the many hills of New Salem's monster side, friends and relatives of the Jekyll/Hyde-Burns family gather to give Jackson Jekyll/Holt "DJ" Hyde their final goodbye — in an official ceremony with no fire or drinks.

Coming from the other side of the state, there was Clawd who was torn by the dead of one of his best friends. Luckily for him, he wasn't here to see last night's show, though he would agree it was not far from how Holt would have wanted his funeral to be. This, however, was more in line with what Jackson would have wanted… other than being still alive.

With him, there were his sisters Clawdeen and Howleen; their parents allowed Clawdeen to come, granted she wouldn't be leaving the house for anything but school, or their B&B where she would work for free until they felt she did her time. Well, it wasn't really like they uttered any word about her penitence, but she got that feeling whenever she saw them. Like she wasn't allowed to do anything else, just for being poorly misplaced.

For the rest of the ghouls and the guys, the situation at home was very similar, Lagoona was the one who at least knew what her punishment was: to have lost her father's trust. Although the rest of her bros can't say they were not in the same place either.

Oh sweet adolescence.

Going against all indication of the doctors, Deuce decides to make himself present, with the promise that he would return as soon as it ended, Cleo was by his side at all seconds, guiding him and telling him everything that happened or who where they talking with, whether he recognized their voice of not.

Even Johnny Spirit, with whom DJ became friends when he was Operetta's boyfriend, is present for the funeral.

"I am surprised. I thought Holt stop being friends with that guy after Operetta found out he was cheating on her." Howleen said.

"I don't think that matters now," Clawdeen said.

"She's right. The reason we're all here is to say good bye to Holt and Jackson," Clawd spat, pressing his fists so tight, he clawed his own palms. He still couldn't believe — accept that his friend was dead!

"You know I'm floating like two meters away from you, don't you?" Johnny announced, hovering to their right, barely touching the floor with those misty, almost gone legs of his, eerie reminders of a distant tragedy, much like the one they're all living now.

"Sorry dude, is just we really didn't think you'd be coming… he was very mad with you after all that went out."

"Yeah, well. We still remained friends after that. Not as good as before, but it doesn't mean I won't be coming here."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Clawd said.

"Did I ever tell you I love what you do with your hair? Is like watching a thinner and transparent version of Elvis, only now wearing a full black suit with chains," Clawdeen laughed.

"You know, I find it distasteful to make jokes at a funeral, but if it's part of your grieving process… go ahead baby. I won't stop ya." Johnny hissed.

"And on that note, can we get the funeral started? Man, I never thought I'd say that," Howleen muttered.

Inside the church, there were many other faces, some familiar, and some not so much… On one side they could see Clair, Jackson's goth and human exgirlfriend sitting alongside with Melody Carver, his siren exgirlfriend; it was unlikely they knew who were they sitting with. The Wolf brothers keep moving, Clawdeen acts like she didn't see Melody… she was never a big fan of her, and she was so torn that she was too depressing to look at…

They sat in the right bench of the front row with most of their closest friends, Gil, his cousin Heath, Ghoulia, Rochelle, Deuce who sat with Cleo, and Operetta who wore a different mask, a mask very similar to that of her father, but full black; if Clawdeen had to guess why the change of mask, she'd say it was to cover how ashamed she was for her behavior last night. They just no idea how terrible she felt, but the embarrassment and the hangover were just a small part of the pain she had to handle; as far as she was concerned she didn't deserve to be here. She wanted to burst into tears, to shriek her pain out like she never has… Yet, she was able to hold her tears, and just stare silently at the coffin with the blue skinned body of her best friend.

On the left bench there were his other best friends, Manny Taur, his other cousin and Heath's sister Harmony Burns, Lagoona, Abbey, Draculaura, Frankie, and Spectra.

Sitting very close, there was an adult couple, a fire elemental whose flame was extinct, and a human woman, clearly his parents. Sydney's eyes were red by how much had cried since he died.

It didn't occur to them to think this was the first time they all wore the same color: black. Only colors that contrasted in the crowd were the colors of other monster's skins. But even Lala's pink skin seemed paler than usual, or maybe it was just make up.

About ten minutes later, the ceremony begins… then it was time for Clawd to give his speech. Slowly, but decisively, he takes the microphone and stands in front of everyone.

He sniffed. "…When I was called and told that Jackson and Holt died… my first reaction was to think it was a bad joke, and even now, looking at him like this… I still feel the same. That he is not gone, and I wish he would got up and tell me I just got punked… And then I am told he wanted me to give a speech for his funeral, so I spent all this time thinking of the right words to say today… but I couldn't find any. Truth is… words are not important… the feelings, that's what's truly important. We could say everything we can think of about Jackson and Holt, that they were energetic, kind, smart or talented, or that he was noisy, hotheaded and a pain in ass, and let's not fool ourselves just because they're dead, because he was… but to say that now would pointless, the only thing that truly matters here is what we feel for them, and that is love. That's why we're all here, because we loved them. And they loved all of us back…

"The… they were our friends, our brothers… to some they were far more than that… but call them what you want, they were our family. Some of you might've had a favorite personality, I never cared much for that… to me, they're one of the coolest guys I've ever met…" he paused to hold himself from crying, "and I'm glad I got the chance to call them my friends…"

Clawd leaves the microphone with tears leaking — pouring from his eyes. This time he sits with his girlfriend Draculaura who tries to console him.

Draculaura clutches his hands, "That… was a beautiful speech," she said holding her own tears.

"I just made it up the moment I got up there…" he whimpered. "Honestly… I couldn't think what to say, so I just did what I thought Holt would and said the first thing that came to my head…"

"I'm sure he would have loved it." Spectra said, sitting next to Lala.

4:56 P.M.

Then it was time to finally bury D.J./Jackson…

Everyone gathers around the open grave and see how his coffin is slowly placed inside a six-foot hole in the dirt as gray clouds gather above their heads, threatening to rain over them. Not exactly the swam song he wanted for his senior year…

"Just what we needed, rain. Because is not a real funeral if is not wet and _clichéd_ ," Clawdeen barked.

"I guess at least now the other guys can cry without worrying anyone else sees it." said Frankie.

"Yeah… I don't wanna see that. Especially not my brother," she replied, desiring to end this before it began to rain. This was bad enough without rain to make her hair look as a clown wig. Although she was sure Holt would like that, something to laugh at his final moment.

The earth is shoved over the coffin…

One by one, all his friends place a rose on his tombstone or over the grave, some place a white one for Jackson, others a blue one for Holt, some other a mixed rose for both of them…

And then the gut wrenching feeling that comes from the cold realization that this was it, they would never see their friends again.

10:21 P.M. Wolf House, Clawdeen and Howleen's room.

The funeral was over, but the grievous feeling still lingered over all of them.

Sitting in her bed, Clawdeen sees the cold drops of rain hitting against her window while trying to ignore the roar of a distant thunder, which, for her wolf ears, sounded as though it were mere feet away; her dark room dimly lit only by the screen of her T.V. and the occasional lightning that flashed across the sky that for a brief instant illuminated every corner of her room; many times she begged her father to soundproof her bedroom, but wouldn't do it since he said it was too expensive.

 _Cheap-ass…_

Thunder boomed again. It was a storm raging fiercely outside. Another jagged flash of lightning illuminates her room.

 _Poor soul, whoever was caught in this rain._ She thought.

It was odd, Clawdeen wasn't really that close to Jackson or D.J., and yet their deaths affected her more than she would have thought it would. She didn't cry the same way as Operetta or Frankie did, but she was still sadder than she thought she should be. Maybe she was influenced by the strong feelings of her friends, they wouldn't stop emanating these… sadness pheromones, they had that stench on them everywhere, or maybe she felt this bad because she couldn't stop thinking of what could happen next. What if Ghoulia is the next target? Or Frankie, Operetta or Lala? Or even worse, her sister Howleen?!

She couldn't bear such thoughts!

Luckily they were interrupted when she gets a text from Keith saying _Little rock on the window._ Then a second one and a third one with the same message, until a fourth one says _Better open the window before I throw a real rock_.

Confounded, she opens her window and finds him standing in the middle of her backyard, under the rain, wearing only his black-and-purple leather jacket with his hood on and black denim pants, not even an umbrella to shield himself from this ungodly weather.

If she hadn't known it was him, she would have freaked out by seeing him standing there, thinking it was Unknown who came for her sister or her.

Quickly, she dials his number on her iCoffin. " _Are you crazy? What are you doing_ _there_ _?_ " She asks.

" _What does it look like I'm doing? I came to see how you doing._ "

" _You can't be serious? In this storm? Wh_ _y would you — wh_ _at where you thinking?_ "

" _Thinking? Have you met me? I never think_ _…_ _wait_ _…_ _That didn't come out right. Lemme rephrase_ _…_ _What I meant to say is_ _…_ _I was too worried about you to think straight_ _. Yes, that sounds better_ _._ "

Clawdeen goes silent; for the first time she didn't know what to say. She was astounded.

" _Woa, well… I… I am fine…_ _thank you…_ " said Clawdeen.

" _Yes, I think I can see that._ "

Another lightning flashes, followed by a thunder roar.

" _You… you should better get out of th_ _at_ _rain._ "

" _Yeah, that's… gonna be a though one. 'Cuz as you can see_ ," he outstretched his arms, " _this is a freaking storm._ "

" _Right…_ _Do you_ _… do you_ _wanna get inside?_ " She asked.

" _You know, I'm too cold to give a sarcastic answer, so I'll just say yes_ _. Eh… should I… climb up to your room? You gonna throw me a hair rope like Rapunzel, or…?_ "

Clawdeen giggles by the first time in days. " _How about you try the front door first? I'll open it._ "

" _Alternative plan. I like that._ "

Quickly, she runs downstairs, almost gliding over the floor as a ghost. My ghoul, what was he thinking by going out there with this rain only to see how she was doing?

 _Well, he just said it, he wasn't thinking straight_ —

No, he was. After all, she is a _boo-tiful_ ghoul and he's a guy. He knew what he was doing, he went to her house to see _her_.

 _What?_ _Ow_ _…_ _I guess you're right. He was thinking straight._

"Come in, get out that god-awful rain," said Clawdeen opening the door.

"Thanks," said he, pulling off his hood.

He was awfully soaking wet, and leaving water everywhere on the floor; yet, his hood kept his head almost dry; and for whatever reason, he was wearing his yellow shield sunglasses.

Quickly she takes him to the kitchen, which wasn't that far from the living room. Her house wasn't really that big.

"I must say, it is a nice weather the one you guys got here. I wished it rained like this in my part of town," said without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. First time since they've met she ever hears that.

"My goth, why? You can't possibly tell me you honestly like this weather. I mean, is — is Biblical out there!"

"Exactly! It is just beautiful. Is nature in her purest form. And the lightning and thunders make it super creepy, which makes it even better."

"Yeah… I'm not really a big fan of rain. It makes my hair all fuzzy. You wouldn't like it. And you wouldn't like thunder either if you had ears like mine."

"I figured as much. Don't need to worry, though. Your hair looks great." Keith gestured towards Clawdeen, the tips of his fingers brushing her smooth and silky auburn hair off her almost-glowing golden eyes. "Of course, your hair always looks great… even now."

"Woa, eh, thanks…" she gave him a coy smile, this was rather flattering coming from him. "But trust me, it really doesn't look that good when it rains. It only looks like this cause it just started a few minutes ago, but give it an hour at least and it will totally poof out and I will spend about the rest of the night looking like a werepoodle." She laughed.

He chuckled too saying "I'm sure even then you'd be the cutest werepoodle of all."

Clawdeen couldn't help to chuckle with him. Then there was silence for a few seconds in which they didn't know what to say.

For one stunned instant she stared at him, still unable to believe he went all the way there to see her in this storm; she never imagined he was capable of such thing, that he'd care for her like that; and then a lightning crackled outside the window shocking her, she was on her tip-toes, then a second one falls hitting a three on one of her neighbor's yard. Clawdeen barked unintentionally, startled. Her hands were covering her ears, and her face was contorted in pain.

"Woa, it's ok. It's ok," he shushed, wrapping his arms around her. Is not like he thought it would help, but it was the only thing he thought he could do, to hug her.

"You don't understand. It's deafening for me," she shrieked. The booming thunder still echoing inside her wolf ears, ringing.

"No, I got it, I got it. I mean, I don't know how it is, but I understand… this kind of sound is as insurmountable for you as it is cool for me."

" _Insure_ what now?" She looked at him confused.

"Insurmountable. It means unbearable, insufferable, too much to handle."

"Oh, that… you couldn't just say that, could you?"

"And missing the chance to teach you a new word? Now, that doesn't sound like me at all."

"You know, I got my ol' sister to do that, thank you very much, and, uh… I… think… you can stop hugging me now."

"Right…" he unwrapped his arms, letting go a wet Clawdeen. "I'm sorry about that."

"Is okay, I had to change this outfit anyway…" said looking at her funeral clothes. For a moment she had forgotten that she hadn't changed since she came from the burial two hours ago, she only took off her heels.

Right now she was barefooted.

"I'm going to my room to change."

"Sure. I can wait you here in the kitchen."

"Why… don't you come with me? I think it be better that way." Said taking him upstairs to her room. "We wouldn't like any of my brothers seeing you here and think you're a thief."

"Now why would they think that?" He sounded with his usual sarcastic voice. "Just to be clear, where are your parents now?"

"They're finishing some business at the B&B, then dropping Howleen at Twyla's. She's been staying there ever since… you know, Holt's passing," explained as they turn to her room. "She convinced them she should stay at her house because she was safer in a place that is a literal M.C. Escher nightmare. I think she just wanted to go there 'cuz the guest room is bigger than our living room, but they should be back in a few hours… or not. With this rain they would probably stay at the B&B."

"Shouldn't you all stick together in a crisis like this?"

"That's what I said. I think dad is just spoiling her. Making up for sending her to boot camp," said entering her room. "Now keep it quiet. I don't want the rest my pack to find out you're here, they'll start asking questions I don't wanna deal with."

"The story of my life."

"Of course, four of them are sleeping down in the basement and Clawd is in his room with Draculaura… doing God knows what, so I'm guessing ew should be fine."

"So he is there with Lala, eh?" _Once again_ … _Keith Morningstar for the win_ , he thought. "Wait, you said four of your brothers sleep in a basement? And here I thought my parents sucked."

"Hey, we don't have that many rooms, and the attic is where you keep the useless stuff you don't want to see again until holidays with those pesky family meetings."

"So is a basement." Keith argued.

"Now you get the idea," she said with a sly smile.

Quickly she turns on the light. Inside her room he could see a mirror with lights and many hairstyling tools on her table that include hair irons, both flat and curling irons, hair dryers, hairbrushes, again both flat and round, hair rollers, clippers, diffusers and various types of scissors, as well as dying products of different colors; by looking at that little mess, he could learn more things about her.

By looking at them he could tell that she liked to try different styles with many bright and flashy colors too frequently, without going to an actual beauty saloon. He tried to picture her walking around with those outlandishly colored anime hairstyles, he tried.

"So tell me again, how comes you suddenly felt like passing by only to see me with this rain? I mean, that is a long way from where you live," Clawdeen asked in her bathroom as she changed into her black tank-top pajamas.

"I told you, I… was thinking about you, and I got worried you might be the next sacrifice," he began. "Of course, you probably would be last, but still… I wouldn't like to see you get hurt and… I guess I wanted to be here to make sure nothing bad will happen to you tonight." _Aw, that is so sweet_ , she thought as he spoke. "Not sure why but I think I kinda like… care about you or something like that." _And there goes the sweetness_ , said to herself as she slides her legs into her green boyshorts _._ "I guess is because you're one of the few people at school who talks to me."

"Well, that is very cute and… paragon. Or at least it is coming from you I think… I'm not sure if I used that word right," said leaving her bathroom. "But seriously, you didn't have to come all the way here to see if I was okay. A simple call or a text would have been enough."

"I know, but… I felt like I had to come here and _see_ for myself that you were ok," explained he.

When he said that, she could have sworn she felt how her face blushed. _God, don't tell me I'm blushing_. She approached him with an old pair of jeans and white shirt and handed it to him.

"What's that for?"

"For you."

"…Now I feel bad, I didn't bring you anything."

"Is from my brother Clawd. It mixed up with mine on laundry day last time he was here… and I thought you could change those wet clothes for something dry."

"And you kept this in your bathroom?"

"Yes, don't ask… You are almost the same size, so it should fit you. Now go change. Wouldn't like you to get a cold because of me."

"I don't really like wearing other people's clothes."

"I ain't getting a no for an answer. Besides, your jacket's been wet for far too long, it needs some drying. You should know what happens if leather gets wet. Now go there and change." She ordered him, pushing the clothes on his chest.

He flinches. "Man, you hit hard for a ghoul." Laughed walking into the bathroom.

"Comes with being a Wolf." Clawdeen smirked.

Her bathroom wasn't as unkempt as he expected, in his experience, girls' bathrooms are not _always_ tidy as one would imagine, but hers was still much cleaner than others.

In the shower, which had a sliding clear glass door, and the shelves there were many shampoo-and-conditioner bottles and hair products of different kinds, to say she cared about her hair was an understanding; he also noted a can black currant body mist, different fruit scented products, ranging from liquid soaps to body creams and others he didn't know what they were, that explains why she always smelled so good and so, so sweet…

The different hair removing creams, cold and hot wax tubes and _Gillette Venus 3_ razors indicated that she also needs to get rid of some, if not most of her fur, something she wouldn't tell him about (probably because it wasn't the best thing a girl could talk about with a guy), he could also see she was not on her period, which, he guessed, would be why she's being so kind to him. Another quick glance at the trash can and he saw other hair removing creams that she clearly threw because they were ineffective.

"And how did you know where I live? I never told you," she asked through the door.

"I read your school site profile, remember? Yours and your sister's. It was quite informative, I also got your home phone number."

"Of course. I forgot."

On the distance, a most frightening lightning falls, the largest of them all yet, a striking image that enlightens her room, once again, with a ephemeral white light, then a late thunder arrives, only this time it was too distant to affect her as it did before. She wanted this storm to stop, but it was evident it would get only worse.

"It's storming," he pointed out, getting out of the bathroom, wearing the old and worn-out white shirt with long sleeves, and an equally worn-out pair of jeans.

Apparently he decided to go bare-foot as Clawdeen and for some reason he just wouldn't take off his yellow sunglasses.

"You think, genius?" She snarled.

"You don't have to be mean."

"Sorry, is this whole weather and… everything," she apologized.

"I'm not going back home tonight, am I?" He asked.

"No, you're not." She sighed. "So, what shall we do now?"

"Well… If you were over eighteen, I would suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol, wait for the one lightning that will inevitably strike this house. But I don't think that will happen. Am I right?"

"You guessed right Bukowski…" she snarled.

"Sometimes I hate it when I'm right."

"Do you… wanna catch a movie on T.V.? We got free _Cinemax_."


	11. Chapter 11

XI

Earlier at Monster High…

"I blame only myself…" Devon says unhappy as he deals alone with Gory and Amanita, who were high on anti-depressives, courtesy of Keith, as well as other drugs that need no mention now. And of course, he convinced Amanita to sprout out some _verbena_ and other weeds such as catnip to mix in Gory's and Toralei's drinks respectively, in exchange of a larger dose. Needless to say, she was the only one who knew what was on those drinks.

"Has anyone ever told you you got a beautiful nose? I would like to nibble it," Gory giggled flirtatiously and dazed. "If you know what I mean." She raised her well defined, elegantly arched eyebrows, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Why me?" He moans exasperated as he tried to keep her uneasy hands still.

"Well, you do have a boo-tiful nose," Rochelle laughed the moment she enters the room.

"You got my message, thank god," sighed in relief.

"Seems like you need some help," said looking at his struggle to keep Amanita and Gory from touching his head.

Having Rochelle present to help him was the best thing that could happen right now. His only regret though, is he texted her an hour after Keith left him and not immediately. "I got an idea, I'll be right back," he said… He should have known it meant Good night… An hour! Just that long it took him to realize he wasn't coming back, even though he should have known better. They've known each other for ten straight years now! How can he still fall for this?

"Yes. I know this seems… honestly I am not sure what it looks like. This was all Keith's idea, he had this plan to —"

"No, no. I don't want to know what the hell this is," she interrupted him. "Because that way I won't have to lie when this explodes in our faces."

"Good call, that is usually what I do."

By the moment the storm struck, the three ghouls had already passed out. A fork of lightning flashed across the sky and lit up the turrets and towers of Monster High. Thunder boomed fiercely on the sky, this heavenly roar reverberates in the belfry and its bell. As disturbing as it might seem, this was but a typical night at the school, or it it would have been if not for the constant fear for The Unknown that posed over their hearts, luring most of them away from the realm of slumber and tormenting those who ventured in; another thunder booms, startling some of the students in their bedrooms, some wake up soaked in cold sweat, but the three doped ghouls would only utter a faint moan and a purr. For a moment, Rochelle worries that something bad happened to them and that they would need to go to the nursery, but Devon quickly assures her that this is completely normal and they would be up by the morning with only "a terrible hangover and an awful aftertaste, from mixing drugs and alcohol… maybe I told you a bit too much." He also convinces her that she doesn't want to know how he knows that, he claimed it had to do with Keith's habit of drinking while under medication for his anxiety issues. Then they resolve to put them on a bed so they can "sleep" and lock the door so no one would find them.

Carefully, Rochelle drags Toralei and Gory's bodies from the ankles and tosses them on a filthy old mattress she found in the same attic. The two girls hit the mattress with a thud.

"I must admit, I got mixed feelings with this," she told Devon.

"Yes, well if you're unlucky enough, you will get use to it," said throwing Amanita off his shoulder over the other ghouls. Her perfect and beautiful lean and sultry green body drops over them with another thud, but the girls in their lethargy, didn't feel the slightest pain and only Gory lets go a late and faint groan.

"Creepy," Rochelle said. "You two seem to have an interesting life, don't you?" inquired suddenly.

"That would be an understanding," he replied, looking at the three slutty girls, piled on top of each other, doped and drooling.

This sure brought back some memories… But no time for that now!

Outside the school, the storm was worsening by the second. Lightning bolts jolting from the clouds, flashing through the windows, thunder echoes stronger into the large SST headquarter room then dies leaving an unsettling and awkward silence, with only the occasional moan, snore and purr of the three drugged ghouls squirming on one and other.

"So… how was the funeral?" He dared to ask to fill the silence of the room.

"As nice as a funeral can be," she sighed, sitting on a rolling chair. "Never thought I'd see the day when any of the guys would cry."

"And what about Operetta?"

"She didn't take off her top if that's what you're asking," said with a slight hint of derision.

"Not exactly, but I'm glad to know that."

"She was very ashamed for what she did last night… she could barely look anyone in the face. Of course those we all had to pretend nothing happened last night as she sung a song for Jackson and D.J., you know how politeness work, but then again I'm sure no one wanted to remember they were there last night."

"Do you think she should be here so we can keep an eye on her? I'm sure we wouldn't have to dope her. She seems a bit more sensitive than them."

"Don't worry, I already got Robecca and Spectra watching her and Ghoulia, well actually Ghoulia is watching her too, they used a movie as an excuse. If anything happens, one of them will fly here right away."

"Okay, let's just hope he hasn't come prepared for a ghost and a _steampunk_ robot girl…" he muttered with a faint smile. "I guess we got ourselves some free time then," Devon comments.

"Do we?" she asks.

"If I know Keith, and sadly I do, he definitely gave them enough to stay out until dawn, so… all we can do now is watch something online as we wait for something bad to happen."

"Well, that's some good use of our equipment." Rochelle snarled. "Because nothing says safety like watching videos of scared cats online."

"Well this one is out for good," pointed at Toralei with his thumb. "Hey, as bad as things are, it can't be all work," he continued. "We need to take some time for ourselves, a little break to breathe. That's why wanted you to take the day off… so you could be with your friends."

"Well, is not like I got much to do these days, everything just feels so… I don't know, I guess I can't enjoy my life with a killer hunting us, knowing it might end the next second."

"That's why I'm telling you to sit with me and watch a movie. Forget for a moment we got a killer on the loose. It might seem trivial, but trust me, it helps…"

"I… I don't know… " said looking prone. "Are you sure we should?"

"I'm sure. Come on, what would you like to watch?" He said, turning on a smartboard with the remote.

"Well… I've been wanting to watch that new _Scar Wars_ movie, but with every bad thing happening here… it didn't seem like I would watch it any time soon." Rochelle said.

"Then prepare to watch _Episode VII: The Fierce Awakens._ "

Rochelle had to admit it, this was strange. Was he really the same guy she's been working with, al this time?

She never thought he would be the one telling her to take a moment to sit back and relax, while taking care of three drugged ghouls. But then again, why would she complain about this?

She's been so stressed out these days, that she could barely sleep. Maybe he was right, she needed a little break from all this, and if it was watching a movie with him, well, what could she do then? Other than enjoying his company, of course.

And throwing Ghoulia some spoilers for once instead of getting them, would be a nice change.

" _…_ _The fierce is strong in my family. My father had it, your aunt has it, I have it_ _…_ _and now you have it too._ "

"I always liked this part," he said said, eating some of the cherry pie left from earlier. "You want some?" He offered her some.

"Sure…" she answered with a trace of a excitement.

Much to Clawdeen's luck, they were on time to catch a remasterized version of _The Young Frankenstein_ , with full color and CGI improvements to make it look as a brand new movie but with none of the crappy writing we got today (and it was no coincidence this movie aired on TV weeks before the remake's premiere, _The Young Victor Frankenstein)_ ; this, the best comedy ever for both humans and RADs, might be what she needed. Something to get her mind away from all the horror and drama she's living now.

"You don't have to sit on the floor, y'know? You can sit here in my bed if you want," she called Keith.

"You want me to sit on your bed?" Asked in shock.

"Well, I surely don't want my guest on the floor, that would be rude. Come on, sit with me. Don't worry, I don't bite… that much," she invited him, smiling and padding her bed, sitting with her legs crossed as if meditating.

"Okay then…" he agreed.

Slowly he sits on her bed, right next to her. A second later, a fluffy purple cat prowls from beneath, jumping on her night stand, almost throwing her lamp.

Crescent, Clawdeen's alpha kitty, lets out a large meow then slowly and graciously, jumps onto the bed, approaching Keith with curiosity, and oddly enough, he seeks for his hands, as if he wanted Keith to pet him. For some reason, he was completely incautious with him.

"Well, that's strange. He usually doesn't act like this with strangers." Clawdeen announced, seeing her cat acting so tenderly. "Looks like he really likes you."

"Don't blame him," said fondling the animal's head as he licks his hand with his raspy cat tongue. "It's an animal thing."

"Really? You're gonna start quoting Vin Diesel now?"

"So you noticed, didn't ya?" he grinned.

"Just don't quote _Fast and Furious_. I've had enough with my brothers watching them every time it's on," pleaded Clawdeen.

"He's not such a bad actor. I mean, his portray as The Groot, a living piece of super wood with only one line and no facial expressions whatsoever, that was remarkable. That's talent over there." He muttered with his usual sarcastic voice.

Clawdeen chuckled. "Good one." said sitting closer to him.

"He probably sensed I'm a cat person too. Didn't ya, lil' fella?"

"So you got a cat?"

"Yep. I once had a bat, a cat, a rat and a raven. Then the cat ate them all when I left for a weekend. Long story."

Dumbstruck, she asks "Do you stay up all night just like planing these conversations in your mind, or you just come up with them at the moment?"

"Oh no, I actually left for a weekend to find out my cat eating my raven Tara. I was supposed to be gone for a day, but things got out of hand and he ended up dinning all my other pets. Now that I think about it, I don't think I even fed him before leaving."

"Well, speaking about responsible pet owners," she laughed flashing her fangs with a smile.

"Now that's something I haven't seen in a while," he pointed. "You smiling, of course, I only saw you smile a few times before, but still…"

"Yes… well, you know I don't have that much to smile for these days," she sighed looking prone at her knees.

"Well, if you want something to smile for like ten minutes… the _Walk this Way_ scene is about to start," he pointed at her scream.

"Honestly… I don't think that would cheer me up that much," she admitted.

"Sweetie, if world's number one _comedy_ , where monsters and human work as equals and make people of all kinds laugh together, is not make you feel better for at least a moment, then you and I got nothing to talk about," he sounded.

"Right… why don't you just… tell me a bit more about you?"

"Like what? There really isn't much to tell about me," he said, almost evasively.

"Why don't you tell me why do you still wear your sunglasses inside the house, and out there at night?"

"Because I look good with them."

"Right… how about… how did you get in this exchange program in the first place? I mean, you admitted to suffer from social anxiety or something. Now, I'm no expert, but that doesn't sound like the best candidate for a program requires _social_ skills."

"Is not so much as I had a saying in the matter. It was mostly the principals' idea. Both of them. Devon had to do with getting me into this too."

"Wait, so Bloodgood asked for you specifically to be at Monster High?" She asked.

"Not at first, but then golden boy had to propose my name, I'm guessing is his payback for all the trouble I got him into. That or he can't do anything without me."

Clawdeen giggles.

"I meant what I said at podium, my former principal wanted to get rid of me real bad, and as soon as he saw the chance here, he took it."

"You must a real bad boy," she laughed.

"If with bad, you mean I published an article on the school newspaper with photographic evidence that he was banging two students, then yes, I am."

Clawdeen's yellow-brown eyes widened in shock. "You what?" She managed to stammer.

'You heard me. Of course, he played a Bill-Clinton-deny-everything card, and convinced the AV club to prove the pictures were altered, which they weren't, and my article got discredited. Clearly the girls wouldn't confess. He kept his job, and luckily I didn't use my real name so he didn't get any real evidence it was I who exposed him, meaning he couldn't expel me, but I'm sure he always knew it was me,'' he explained.

"Oh my God," she utters astounded, then starts laughing. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not, that was actually my idea of a prank, but then I thought the school deserves to find out the right way. But since I got no followers on Twitter, I went to second best thing, school newspaper…"

"You got a messed up sense of humor."

"Well, humor is subjective, haven't you heard? On the other hand, that movie, I understand, is humorous for everyone with a soul, or just simply the ability to laugh."

"You really wanna watch this movie, don't you?"

"A lot, yes…"

"Fine, we'll watch it," said turning on the volume. "But you gotta tell me more about that story." Clawdeen said.

As the night went on, the storm got even worse, threes fell in the forest behind the house; Clawdeen was able to hear them albeit barely. But even with all that, as the hours passed, she completely forgot there was a storm at all, instead she spent the rest of the night watching the movie with Keith, sitting by his side, and eating a bowl of chicken nuggets and Ketchup with him. And when it ended, she would spend hours talking with him about the crazy or stupid things they've done, or simply just about anything and everything they could think of, until she finally grew weary, falling asleep, laying her pretty head to rest on his shoulder.

In that moment of quiet, for it seemed like the storm was ending or at least taking a break, he takes a look at her thinking she looked so cute and sweet on her sleep, with a faint smile printed on her lips… she seemed so calm and so free of all worries… that he couldn't even think of moving her head and disturbing her sleep in the less. Then, maybe by an involuntary and unconscious movement, she lays her arm on his chest, as if hugging him.

Thus, he decides to sleep without moving his hostess, no matter how uncomfortable his position was, carefully resting his head over hers…

Location… Unknown.

03:26 AM

The current situation was dire for ASOME. This video of some their most prominent members slaughtered going viral on the web ruined their image. Once the most powerful secret organization, now reduced to a joke by a single man! How could this be!?

This called for a gathering of all the leaders of ASOME.

In this dark room, only lit by dim emerald torches, with black marble walls, floors and ceiling, sat some of the most powerful and elder monsters among some others who weren't as old. And among them there was a dragon who, after a remarkable failure in her mission to control the young mind of this new generation of monsters, not like there is too much mind to control when it comes to millennials anyway, nailed, tore, crawled and even sexed her way back to the top and higher than she had been.

It was no other than Sylphia Flapper, the whispering dragon.

Walking into the Black Room with her loyal troll bodyguards, she immediately got the attention of every man and woman in the room. Some women paid more attention than others… but undoubtedly this beautifully delicate European dragon had become the center of attention. And how could she not?!

With iridescent-ivory skin that strongly contrasted against the jet-black walls of the room and her backless dark-green slit dress with a dreadfully low neckline that left no place for modesty, a heart-shaped mouth that sends waves of lust to everyone who laid eyes on them, those assessing, blazing green eyes that seemed to burn into your soul, and long blood-red hair, this woman was absolutely breathtaking. Not to mention she was highly visible in this room, almost as though an aura glowed around her.

"I'm sorry I am late," uttered with a soft, yet raspy and rapturous voice, which erupted all within earshot.

She stood in all he glory, exuding confidence and an imposing authority, as she let her hips swagger as she approached the large, circular table where her allies sat. The attention on her grew, she was sinking in it, drinking it, tasting it; a prideful smile forms on her lips. One beautiful leg after the other moved gracefully while her steps seemed to delicately land on her high-heeled toes. Everyone's eyes followed her every move, some wouldn't even try to hide their special focus on the bounce of her lush breasts, as though hoping to see a red nipple slipping from that dress.

She had this whole I'm too precious for this world air drifting around her.

"Miss Flapper, as always your mere presence becomes an spectacle of itself." A werecat hissed.

It was no other than Tad Bee, who had recently been chosen as one of the thirteen heads of ASOME.

She hated him. She wanted his place, but for that he had to die.

"What can I say? I dress to impress."

"As hard as it is for you to believe, this isn't about you!" He shouted, as she took her sit. "As you must know, there is a hunter who is smart enough to find us, and stupid enough to hunt us! And what is even worse, is that he has exposed ASOME to the world, by humiliating some of our most important members!"

"Speaking of which, there is one missing in this table…" a werewolf spoke with a loud crasp voice. "Where is Ramses de Nile?"

"The mummy?"

"There is no other. Is he dead? I mean for good."

"Luckily he isn't. He was unable to attend the meeting due to the brief notice of this gathering. But… at least he had the decency to send his daughter in his place as a representative." Tad explained, pointing at Nefera de Nile who sat two places to his right.

Nefera grinned, with a smug expression on her regal and beautiful face.

"He sent this child in his place? I don't know whether if its coward or smart."

"Come again?!" Nefera blurts outrageously.

"Well, he is clearly not risking his own unlife, so he sent you instead, you know, just in case. Honestly I never saw why should we have a mummy in out midsts. Your only use is beneath the ground, or behind glass in a exhibit. I'll give it to his cowardice. Mummies after all, get their brains out and placed in a jar, so there can't be much thinking he can do." The werewolf said with utmost indifference.

"You know, you can say whatever you want, I don't care. Because in fifty years you will be dead, and you won't be remembered, but I shall live forever. Not just some pitiful four hundred years."

"Your point being?"

"My point is that I shall be queen of the new world, but you will be nothing but a decadent corpse that nobody will remember."

"I like this one," he smirked.

"Forget it, she's too expensive for you." Flapper said.

"Enough of this! We're here to discuss how are we going to end with this hunter. This so called 'Unknown'." An ancient Chinese dragon roared.

Crimson fire flared from his nostrils.

"I say we should end this stupid nonsense of trying to take over the world from the shadows as if we were Masons! Only normies should reduce themselves to stupid methods as those. We should declare the war to the human world now! We are monsters, we are proud!" Tad Bee screams vehemently, standing on his feet.

Sylphia giggles when she hears the last line.

"Is there something amusing?" He glared at her.

"Nothing. Just remembered something. Keep going."

"I say we go out there and take what is rightfully ours. I say we show them what we're made off—" abruptly, he ends his passionate shouting.

"Agreed." A faint voice said from behind him.

Then, Tad Bee begins to cough blood. A piercing pain running from his spine.

Then from the shadow, a man in a black coat with a large hood appears, his right hand stretching into Tad Bee's body.

"You!" He screamed.

"In the flesh." Said twisting his hand. "You say my name and I'll magically appear."

Shockwaves of pain tear through his stomach. Not, it was the silver claw what tore his stomach!

In shock and fear, everyone stands up, and takes a step away from Unknown.

"You know, I always wanted to know what are you made of," he said to his ear, pushing his claw up to his chest.

Dark red blood spurts out of his mouth.

The long silver blades cut through the ribcage with ease and pierce the tailored black suit as he takes hold of Tad Bee's heart. Then with a powerful yank, he rips his heart trough his back.

Holding up to his face, which he concealed with a black mask as well, he stares at the still beating heart with amazement. "Interesting. I never believed you had one of these. Well, since you didn't used it before, I guess you won't mind me keeping it." Said as the heart vanishes in his clawed hand.

Quickly the trolls protecting Sylphia, stood up before her. They resembled an awfully overgrown pop trio. The Balaclava Boys, the hottest troll boy band there is, doing their part to make camouflage clothes this year's fashion again. And as a boy band, they acted in perfect synchrony, and altogether, they lifted their right hands in a over-dramatic, emotionally charged pose. But instead of doing a finger bang gesture, their hands were holding real guns. Huge guns made for their huge hands. Logically, everything looks smaller in their hands. Now they would have sung their summer hit, something among the lines of, "Shot in the heart, and you're to blame. Darling, you gave this troll—"

 _Wait! Doesn't that sound like another song to you?_

I guess their hit was a cover, oh well, what can—

The three automatic guns exploded all at once their aim was perfect, so before even pulling the trigger, they knew they would hit Unknown. But much to their surprise, he vanishes into the shadow as a boogie man before the shot and the bullets hit Tad Bee's fresh corpse.

His head blown off. His blood spread all around as a crimson mist, impossible to see in the black floor.

The threesome stood there in awe, their eyes widened as they wondered where did he go.

Then a shadow strikes one of them in the face, he pressed back the darkness with a relentless straight-ahead punch from his grotesque hand, but he hits nothing. Then that shadow again, striking his two partners in their crutch. They felt the pain, but they suck it up. The shadow they were fighting, that blur of speed that vanished in the nothingness — could that be Unknown?

They didn't know. But what else could it be? All they could do now was to shoot at everything that moved. Then, they caught something, a black blur moving in the corner of their eye.

To their left!

They fire at an empty wall.

The booms of the gunshot echoed in the wide room, they hadn't even died when Unknown appears before them, with his left hand extending toward them. It didn't take long for them to realize he was holding a machine gun. Then sparks flied from his hand as out-of-season fireworks, followed by a powerful rattling sound, similar to that of typing machine.

 _Oh, raise your hand those who have heard one, let alone used it! Nobody? Just me?_

The high powered bullets tore apart the brain of the two troll standing closer to him, brains and bones which formed a bloody mist and splattered all over Sylphia's snow white face, breast, and basically her entire body, staining her dress.

The third troll had only an awful, but non-lethal wound on his face. He was on the floor, crawling away, but in a quick movement, he jumps in front of him and slashes his head off the body.

Unknown stood there with a machine gun in one hand, and a bloody claw on the other. He looked as super hero ripped from a human sci-fi movie where mutants threaten humanity and the hero saves the day with a strange weapon.

And now he laid eyes on his new targets. It was time to seek and slash.

Everyone was in shock. Their eyes widened. They couldn't believe what they saw.

Was this real?

Waving his left hand around the Black Room, he fires at every single monster in sight, as he jumps on the table, running towards the werewolf who insulted Nefera, slashing his heart. Needless to say, he proceed to do the same with all those who miraculously dodged the bullets.

 _This fall witness the fall of ASOME._ _You might dodge lead bullets, but not_ _his_ _silver claws_ _. He is Dick, the Monster Slayer_ _._

 _Not the most appealing name._

In less then three minutes, the room was filled with the odor of blood, and only two monsters were still alive, Nefera who hid beneath the table, and Sylphia who was unharmed.

"Well played, Richard. Well played." Sylphia almost clapped at his performance.

Then he turns his head at her, slowly raising his gun.

"What is this, a joke?"

"No." He shot, two bullets hit right wing, another one her right shoulder.

She was in a pain she never had. But she was in such shock that she couldn't even feel it.

"Now, hold on. We had a deal, I gave you the names of those who killed your wife, the address of our meeting places and dates, and you would spare me."

Unknown ignores her. A second stream of bullets pierce her perfect belly. She lets out a shriek that tore her stomach.

She was now on the floor with a hand stretched to the air as if it could stop the next bullets.

"We had a deal!"

"Yeah, I lied. Don't be too surprised. I draw my power from a deceitful God." He explains as he opens fire on her face.

Her head was blown to bits, spread on the black floor shone small with bone splinters and shred of her ivory colored skin, floating in a growing puddle of blood.

"Now, what should I do with daddy's girl?" Said, breaking through the stone table with his claw, holding Nefera's head. He was ready to pierce her claws into her head and see for himself if she truly has a brain. A quick and painful death. It was almost mercy.

But a better idea came to him.

Letting her head go, he jumps off the table and tugged her by the arm, with a strength that almost tears it off.

"You… you don't understand. I am here because my father made me do it!" She cried, but he didn't seem to listen, instead his head tilted as though he was seeing something around her head, or as if trying to hear something else.

"Yes… " he released her arm. "I understand…"

For a split of a second she believed he would spare her. But then in a blur of speed, his hand seizes her face—

21 September

07:13 A.M.

Golden early-morning poured into Clawdeen's bedroom.

The warm stream of sunlight sneaks onto her bed, softly caressing her smooth and sleek caramel-colored skin, her bare legs and thighs glistened, it kept crawling up to her flat belly and onto her angelic, lupine face, bestowing her silky, brown hair (which for some reason, and much to her good luck, didn't really poof as badly as it usually does) with an unnatural, nearly golden glow that made her all the more beautiful than she knew, without disturbing her sleep, in contrast to Keith who woke up the second it touches his face and seeps through his eyelids.

Usually the first fifteen seconds of the morning are the best part, for he has no memory of anything (in the good way, not because of drunkness though it was most often the case too) until he remembers everything about who he is and… put bluntly, his entire life, or simply what he did the prior night. But this time, when he remembered what happened last night, the feeling was different. Quickly he picks up his yellow sunglasses from his lap. He wasn't regretful to wake up as it usually happened, this time he was glad he did, for he got to see such a beautiful ghoul by his side.

Then a thought strikes him.

He had to get out of there as soon as possible! As much as he liked her company, which he would never admit to her face, he knew it was a bad idea to stay there any longer. As far as he knew, her parents were either home or on their way. So, quickly but carefully, he moves her head from his shoulder, slowly laying her head down on a pillow, and leaves the bed, rushing into the bathroom, then changes back to his own clothes as silent as he could.

In less than four minutes he had changed except for his boots, which he guessed would ruin his sneaking-out, something that he was very good at after years of finding himself in similar situations. He already had half his body out the window when Clawdeen's Brooklynish voice sounds, saying "Must you really go out the window all the time?"

Keith raises his head, she was standing right before him, arm-crossed, with a hint of a smile curving on her full lips.

"Well… I guess you could say it comes natural to me. I mean, I could have tried sneaking downstairs but the idea of sneaking out is to avoid your parents, brothers or whatever. Wouldn't want them, to get the wrong idea and get you in trouble or something."

"Cute. And a guy climbing down from my window won't…"

"I'm sensing you want to get somewhere with this conversation, but I don't think I got the means to figure it out on my own," he said.

"Get back in here and use the stairs as a normal person."

"Really? I mean the floor is like only ten feet away. I can just jump right in."

"Still, you're walking," she ordered.

"What if we meet your parents in the kitchen?"

"I'm sure they're still on the road, and even if they were already here, they can sniff you even once you're gone. Which means I'm already in trouble. So there is no need to break your legs."

"Fine. Just keep in mind it was your idea, I wanted to use the window," said, crawling back inside her room.

Much to his luck, her parents, whom unbeknownst to them were already home, weren't up yet, so leaving the small house wasn't as troublesome as he feared.

Once he got his bike from where he hid it to shelter it from the storm, a small cement shack where her father seemed to store things they didn't seem to use, Keith was ready to go back to work.

"Thanks," said Clawdeen, "you know, for… coming here in the middle of a storm just to make sure I was safe… That was… mighty nice from you. You really are a good friend."

"Hey, no problem. I'm glad to do it again for you any other day."

"Glad to her that…" she chuckled, pulling her hair with her left claw, the same way she'd do to pull it behind her ear if she were in her human form. Then suddenly, she wraps her thin arms around him and hugs him with a strength that didn't match — but rather vastly exceeded her size.

Dumbstruck, then overcoming the initial shock, Keith hugs her back, with a faint smile, then tries to push her away saying "Ok, that's enough contact… I mean it. You're hugging me too hard for a girl with such skinny arms."

"Ups. Sorry," she chuckled again, pulling him away. "Well, I guess I'll see you on Monday."

"Not if you're lucky."

"Right…" said Clawdeen, and after, what appeared to be a moment of hesitation, she leans on to him, kissing him on the right chick. His face felt smooth on her lips. "Bye."

"Uh… sure, good bye," said as though he was surprised (in shock even) by the kiss putting on his helmet, sliding down the reflective shield. "Tell her I said hi."

There was no particular reason for this, but she believed he was grinning from ear to ear under that mirror-like shield where she could see only her face reflected and distorted.

Keith starts his bike, and rides off away in the direction of Monster High. Arm-crossed, she sighs, with a delightful smile, and an almost enthralled look on her eyes, thinking _Maybe he isn't all bad_ , utterly ignoring her brother Clawd standing on the front door, also with arms crossed and glowering.

"Who is he? And what was that normie doing here?" He asked in a low, strong voice. As werewolves they had almost no need to yell, even though he felt like it; his sister approached the house without answering. Her smile faded and her brows frowned a little. "Is he… is he your boyfriend or something?" Insisted, tugging her arm.

She gets her arm back right away.

"What do you care about?" Clawdeen said bluntly, her face twitching and fangs exposed for a second.

"I do. Now answer. Did you spend the night with that guy?" He dared to ask.

Clawdeen's left foot halts at the entrance. Then turns her face on him. "That is none of your goddamn business!" She growled in an outburst. "Just as it is none of my business whatever you were doing with Lala upstairs last night or any other night for the last four years," Clawd's face drops at this raging comment; he was disarmed. "Of course, if you really want to know… Yes, he slept with me in my bed," said with a strong tone of defiance in her voice, "but as you can smell… I don't have that musky stench the way you do every time Lala stays here without mom and dad knowing. So please, knock it off with the jealous and overprotective older brother routine, 'cause it doesn't suit you."

"Uh… don't change the subject, this is not about me," said, trying to sound angry. "What do you think mom and dad will say when they find out you spend the whole night with a guy? Also, I'm a grown wolf, I can—"

"Be a real hypocrite!" she roared. "After all the years I covered for you and Lala, you dare to say that to me!? 'Cuz I'm not even sure she was supposed to be out of her room last night, or that she has left yet. I'm sure her father would be interested to know she escaped her room when she was supposed to be grounded."

"That is—"

"Now you listen to me," growled pushing her right index claw on his chest. "Whatever happens in _my_ room and with whom it happens, is _my_ freaking problem, not yours! Oh, and when you get back to yours, tell Lala _he_ said hi," said getting inside the house, rushing furiously to her room.

Clawdeen jumps, or rather plummets her body onto her bed. Groans into her pillow. She couldn't believe he dared to think that — just because — Was her brother really stupid enough to think she was that kind of ghoul? Worse yet, did he really dare to act like that?

Though it wasn't really those questions what angered her, she knew what it looked like, it was understandable he thought that given the out-of-context picture he saw. Hell!, that was precisely what Keith wanted to avoid by jumping out the window (which she should have allowed him to), but it was rather how he asked. The way he spoke with that imposing tone, as if he were her father — as if he suddenly became the Alpha of the house! Who the Hell he thinks he is to question her about with whom she sleeps (if she ever does it), or what she does in her room? Is not like she is Toralei, Nefera or Amanita who do everything with everyone.

 _How dare he?_

Like he hasn't been doing questionable things with Lala from their first month?!

…

She rolls her head on her pillow and sighs deeply… then notices a small purple note on her night stand. The note was from Keith and read in his very elegant handwriting: Thanks for letting me stay… and the nuggets.

PS: I think I drooled on your head while sleeping.

"What?!"

Quickly she checks her head and finds another note in her hair. This one read _Gotcha!_

Clawdeen giggles, then turns the note around, another message said: While you're still laughing, I kinda borrowed one of your razors while I changed. Don't worry, I cleaned it.

Then she realized he had a clean shave when he left and his face was smooth.

"That's why… No wonder why his face was so smooth today. That—! Oh, forget it," she sighed.

08:04 A.M.

Student Safety Team's Headquarters, Monster High.

Sneaking into the school turned out to be surprisingly easy for Keith even with the many gargoyles watching. It was sad to see how despite all that's happened, security measures haven't been improved that much.

He seriously needed to talk with Ms. Bloodgood about this. Of course, it was unlikely that she would implement his ideas, probably getting a Cerberus would be complicated, and he wasn't sure whether if it was really legal to have movement activated flamethrowers in each turret of the school, or practical during the day, but… is not like it would matter that much anyway. He was sure all this madness would end soon.

Up in the attic, he finds the three ghouls still sleeping in the filthy mattress, as well as Devon and Rochelle sleeping in their chairs, together. Similar to how Clawdeen last night, she rested her heavy head on his shoulder.

Based on the amount of drugs he gave the girls, he calculated they should be up… sometime before noon. Is not like he really cared that much for that. He knew they would wake up sooner or later, and even if they didn't get up, he already had a plan to wake them up. Something he wanted to try for a long time: nailing a hypodermic needle straight into their hearts to restart it. He already had the needle in his pocket.

Of course, stabbing something sharp in Gory's heart (if she even has one) probably wasn't such a good idea given she is a vampiress… vampires and piercing objects in their hearts don't really mix well. Last thing he wanted was to see that boo-tiful ghoul turn to ashes… on his pants. Not to mention it would do no good to his allergies and he would be forced to clean her up.

And it would be a greater shame to see such beauty go to waste. And it wasn't hard to see why would he think of them as Unknown's next sacrifice. These three ghouls were so beautiful in different ways.

On one side, we had Amanita who, even when sleeping, emanated this air of elegance around her. She always bragged about how gorgeous she was, and even he had to admit her face was damn near perfect, and her hair shone brightly as well as her lush green skin, which he could only imagine was smoother than it looked. You take all that and mix it with those beautifully plumped and well-shaped lips, her long and well-formed legs, her perfect curves and her generous bosom, not to mention her butt… and you get a ghoul who could easily be a princess or a model, or both! No wonder why was she so self-centered and narcissistic, and why would she be adored as if she were a real princess or goddess by small tribes thousand of years ago. He better than anyone understood how men could do stupid things for a pretty face like that, even though they had 0 chances with her.

Just as her legend said, she was a flower of a beauty you'd see once in a life time.

Then there was Gory. Although she wasn't in the same rank as Amanita Nightshade or Clawdeen Wolf (I mean, come on! He drove to her house during a storm just to protect her from a serial killer, he clearly likes her like a lot, and finds her like, the most attractive ghoul of all school) who was once in a photo shooting for _Teen Vouge_ , making her an actual, one-time, model (oh, right… there's also that. Forget the last thing I said), something she told him last night, she was still quite attractive and she had that appealing, mature look of a college student or the very young and sexy secretary all wives hate. Her look was even aristocratic, like a countess who couldn't be satisfied in bed, with those wide eyes, her elegant, refined and arched eyebrows and her thin but well formed lips, although the things he liked about her more than her face were her legs, just precious; she had all the package. There was hardly anyone who would be a better sacrifice.

And then we got Toralei… of all the would-be-victims in this attic, she was his favorite, but that was mostly for his fondness for cats and his weakness for redheads, specially if they are in anything like her. He watched her for a while from the shadows during his first week, and he had to admit, her soul sort of mirrored his. She was mean mostly just for the fun of it, manipulative, deceiving, knavish, a bit of a cheater and mostly looked up for herself. Those were some of the qualities he liked the most in a woman, and with her perfect smooth striped-fur with multiple shades of orange and her red hair with black stripes… it was a perfect combination. Not to mention her face wasn't that far behind.

She might not be _the_ most attractive ghoul of all, but she was still one of the prettiest and sexiest he'd seen so far, and her legs were also some of the sexiest he's seen too. If Rochelle and Dev knew what he thinks of her, she would say something like _Well, you gotta admit if those two met_ _,_ _they would have a great_ _and creepy_ _chemistry_ _together_ _…_ to which he would reply _Yeah, so do nitroglycerin and peroxide, and I don't suggest putting them together._

He was sure she wouldn't understand the chemical combination he used though, but he agreed they would be a dangerous and probably self-destructive couple _…_ which is why he decided to stay away from her. He knew they could never work together, they were too much alike and they would never trust each other.

Twenty minutes later.

The ghouls were still breathing. He never really understood how or why do vampires breathe. Do they even have to? That was one of the many mysteries about monsters he wanted to answer. But sadly it would have to be another day.

Spinning his chair, he rolls toward Rochelle and Devon, waiting for them to wake up. Brief moments later Rochelle wakes up.

Rochelle opens her pink eyes, she was in a daze, everything was blurry but it quickly becomes clear. Then she sees him. Keith's face only mere inches from her, his lips twisted into a large and unsettling grin like that from _The Man who couldn't stop laughing_.

Rochelle lets out a fearful shriek as she jumps off her chair, waking up Devon. "Holly shit!" She blurts.

She was so shocked, she forgets her good manners for a moment.

She quickly takes her hands to her, uh, let's say firm breast, to check her stone heart. It was going as fast a horse in a race.

"Uh, what happened?" Devon asks, getting back to his senses. "Agh! Goddamnit! What are you doing, man?" He asked in such shock by seeing Keith's smirk up close, that he curses as well as Rochelle. Panting, he checks his own pulse too. "You came here to kill Batman?"

"No, I'm just happy." He answers.

"Why don't you show that with less teeth?" Rochelle suggested.

"Ok _…_ " he erases his grin for a moment, then curves his lips the same way, only but without showing any of his teeth, and the result was _…_

"Crap, that's terrifying." She said in a low voice.

"Okay. How about you stop smiling for good?" He suggests

"Fine _…"_

"What's this all smiling about anyway?" She ventured to ask.

"I'm just glad to see two of my favorite people together."

"What?"

"Whatever man. Just _…_ do not ever do that again. And _…_ did you shave?" Devon noticed. It was an odd thing to notice, but he did it anyway.

"Thanks. At least somebody noticed," he glared at Rochelle.

"Sorry I didn't notice the clean shave beneath the creepiest smile I've seen in nearly hundred-sixty years of unlife."

"Oh, now you're just trying to be nice to make it up for ignoring it. Ok, I can't stay mad you after you say such nice things." Said with a faint smile.

"Is he for real?" She asked Devon.

"Hey, you are talking to a guy who has learned to take everything as a compliment. And I mean everything."

"Now, I'm sure you were upset last night because I left for the entire night."

"Honestly, at this point _…_ I am surprised you said you were leaving."

"But rest assured _…"_ he continued, ignoring Devon's answer. _"_ I had a perfectly reasonable reason for that."

"Reasonable reason, eh? Sure sounds important," Rochelle muttered.

"Indeed. But I'll have to tell you later."

Pressing the area between his eyes, Devon sighs "I am afraid to ask why."

"Good thing you did."

"I did not."

"First off: those ghouls are waking up in the next ten minutes, and the explanation would be too long. I don't want them interrupting. And secondly I need to change my clothes."

"Why wouldn't you change before coming here? Weren't you at home? Or did you sleep with your clothes on?" Rochelle asks.

"Not really. Actually I spent the night with Clawdeen."

"Come again?!" Rochelle gasped in shock. "You said you were with Clawdeen last night?"

"Yep. It was a wonderful evening."

"What were you doing there?" She had a bad feeling. She hoped to be wrong.

"I just wanted to make sure she wasn't in any danger of being taken early for the last sacrifice." Keith replies calmly.

"Oh my God. What did you do?" Devon said this time.

"Nothing really. We just watched a movie and talked as I set watch. She is actually a really wonderful girl once you get to know her. I kinda like having her around."

"So you just chatted all night? That is it?" She insisted.

"Well, we also ate nuggets and I used one of her razors to shave this morning," said touching his chin.

"You talked? As in having a conversation with her?"

"Yeah. Kinda like what we're doing right now, but funnier."

"And she didn't kill you?"

"Am here, am I not?"

"And you tried to do nothing else?" She kept going.

"I think your syntax's wrong, but I didn't. Why would I?"

Rochelle looks at him disbelief.

"Do you believe him?" Asked, looking at Devon.

"Well, he's not a ghost, or else he would be paler. I am sure he is telling everything."

"Anyhow, I came here to make sure everything was okay, and—" then abruptly, Toralei moans as she wakes up.

"Aaawwchy! My head! Why does it hurt so much?!" She whined.

"As I said, in the next ten minutes."

Almost immediately, Gory wakes up complaining about the same head-splitting headache, followed by Amanita who woke up by their whining.

"I love it when other people got a hangover," he smirked. "Morning glories, ghouls."

"Glories my ass. My head is bursting." Toralei shrieked, taking her paws to her ears.

As a werecat she usually heard thing better than your average monster, but with this hangover, the sound was insurmountable.

"Oh, I know. The pain of a hangover. Is a bless you were out when you passed from drunk to hangovered. Hey, if you say hangover too many times, it sounds less as a word," he mocked. "Honestly, I thought you'd take it better than this. I mean, I've seen my cat drink and I as far as I know, she's never had a hangover. Of course she might have the same resistance as I do. And I guess I was wrong to think you were like those tv's alcohol-proof vampires, also I've never seen a plant getting drunk either, but I guess I was wrong on that too," he said grinning. "

"Please, make him stop." Gory begged, putting on her glasses and holding her head.

"If only I knew how," Devon sighed.

"Now, I got in my hands, the perfect cure for a hangover," continued, taking out an orange pill container. "One pill and you'll be fresh as a lettuce."

"And in exchange we must give you what?" Toralei asked. She knew he would ask for something in return. That's exactly what she'd do.

"Oh, I love her. Isn't she a smart ghoul? Yes you are," said with a humorous tone in his crasp voice. "In return, I want you to keep your pretty lips shut, and never say a word about this."

"That's it? We don't tell Bloodgood you got us drunk, and you let us the pill? Fine, you got a deal. Now give it to me," Gory said stretching her arms.

"Boy, if I'd known you say that when you get drunk, I would have stayed last night." He laughed tossing her a pill. She clumsily catches the pill. "How about you two? We got a deal?"

"Yes, just make it stop," Amanita said.

Every word she heard was a jackhammer bashing against her precious head from all directions at once.

Keith tosses her a pill as well, which "probably" fell between her breast by "accident".

"You're a filthy, manipulative bastard." Toralei said. "I love it. Where were you my entire life?"

"I was born in here, I grew up in this room and was raised in this room, waiting for a girl like you who would appreciate my qualities. And now I've met you, my life can finally begin." Keith said, throwing her a pill.

Toralei catches the pill in mid air. Even in this states, her cat-like reflexes were sharp. "If my head wasn't in pain, I would laugh."

"Ok, you ghouls are ready to go. If the pain continues, go see a real doctor. And if you can't… well, is too early for me to curse, but you'll get there."

"Wait, what was the point of bringing us here to get us drunk anyway?" Gory had to inquire.

"Huh, for the fun of it? That's why people drink."

"Yeah right," she groaned.

"Right… You'll find out another day. Now leave." He responds.

Now with their pills in their hands and breasts, the ghouls leave, regretting ever coming up here last night. Amanita and Gory glower at Keith as they cross the door, but Toralei winks an eye at him and waves her tail between his legs as she crossed the door.

"That was your master plan? Get them here with drinks so I can watch nothing happens to them while they are passed out, and then buy their silence with pills for the hangover so they won't tell Miss Bloodgood that you brought alcohol into the school?"

"Hey, it worked."

"Once. We need a long term plan for the next time he tries to sacrifice one of them which could happen any day this week, or the next one."

"There won't be a next time… because the Unknown killings end tonight…" said sharply. Suddenly his voice sounded serious and hoarse, almost the same way it did during his first week at Monster High, "or tomorrow… uh, sometime this week. I haven't done my groceries yet. Anyhow, you should go shower and change too. The two of you."


	12. Chapter 12

XII

10:30 A.M.

Student Safety Team's Headquarters, Monster High.

"Ok, where's Keith?" Rochelle asks tired of waiting for him.

"Relax, he'll be here," Scarah said, looking forward for his arrival. "He must be caught on traffic or something."

"He rides a bike." Goyle argues; she was wearing a very French-looking black-and-white striped shirt that ended just above her navel, and a pink-and-black stripped skirt, with black knee-high boots with heels.

 _Showing her grief, but keeping the style. Don't you love French people?_

"And is not like he isn't above riding on the sideways if there's a jam," Devon adds. He was now wearing a dark blue turtle neck with a brown leather jacket, black pants and black shoes.

"Well, then he probably got caught by the police." Scarah replies; she was dressed almost as usual, only but in a darker shade of green.

"Okay. Not like that scenario is neither likely, nor that it has not happened, but how is that any better than getting caught in the traffic?" Devon asks.

"Well, if he—" Scarah was ready to speak out an argument, mostly because she felt an odd desire to argue, but then gets abruptly interrupted by the loud banging of the door being open by a strong kick.

The thick wooden door hits against the stone wall and on the threshold stood no other than the devil of whom they speak, Keith Morningstar, wearing a yellow hazmat on which he managed to lay hands somehow, the same kind used for working with radioactive materials, and a Geiger–Müller counter hanging from his right shoulder.

"What the bloody Hell…?" Scarah blurts out in a whisper.

In complete astonishment, Devon manages to shoot a few words that expressed the general thinking of the room "What in the world are you wearing?"

"This, my dear fella, is a hazmat suit. Used to work with uranium and… basically everything that ends in 'um'. And this here is a Geiger counter."

"I can see that. I just cannot see why."

" _Yeah._ _Where_ _and why_ _did you get such things?_ _And most important how?_ " Ghoulia inquired.

"Because, my sweet smelling and blue-skinned gamer-ghoul, it has come to my ears that one of us here is radioactive material, and we've been exposed to her for far too long." He explains.

"What?" Rochelle stammers confounded.

"Not what, who." Keith says approaching Scarah, raising the Geiger counter in his hand. Immediately, it began to produce the sound which indicated it was searching for radiation, but everything was still on normal levels, the red needle barely moved.

"What now?" She asks looking at the device on her face.

"That's right. I heard you are a Gamma telepath. Gamma! Like the Hulk, which means you are a telepathic She-Hulk, and radioactive!"

Everyone was bewildered and didn't know what to say.

"Come again?" Scarah says in a monotonous voice.

"I mean it was so obvious! The green skin, the mutant powers. You are not just a ghost, you are a long-dead Hulk family member from the 70's, only your strength is in your brain, not your muscles," explains he.

"You're off your rocker — he's off his rocker! Is that it?" She comments, looking at the group. "He's off his rocker."

"Now, don't worry, I won't blame you for not knowing you were poising us with deadly radiation that might actually give us super powers and anger issues. Fingers crossed." He grins widely." Now, stay still so I can know how much radiation we're dealing with."

"Janey mack," she whispers to herself, looking prone, with her right hand covering her face. "Ok, I'm gonna tell you this once, and I hope you'll understand. I am not radioactive!" She voices loudly.

"Right, then how do you explain the green skin and that thing you said about being Gamma?"

"That I'm Gamma Level telepath?"

"Aha! Then you admit it!" He bellows, feeling triumphant.

"It is a rank used to measure the level of our skills in Telepathy Camp," she retorts. "It goes from Alpha for beginners, then Gamma for those who grasp the ordinary and a few moderately advanced methods and techniques and then there is the Omega Level, which is only for those most powerful telepaths who fully mastered the art of mind reading. It doesn't mean I'm radioactive."

"And what about psychic energy emanations?" He insisted.

"What? That is not how psychic energy works!?" She shrieks.

"You know, I'm gonna drop it here and give you this one, but only because I don't want you to smash my mind." Says turning off the Geiger-Muller counter.

Scarah looks at him peeved.

"And here I was ready to defend you for being late," she sounds with her right palm on her face.

"Well, that is sweet," he reckons, taking off the mask-helmet. "But there is no need. I'm always late. Tell her Dev, tell her how I'm always late."

"He is always late," Devon says in a calm, almost monotone voice, turning his head, arm crossed, still trying to understand what just happened.

Then Ghoulia breaks into a laughter. A loud and roaring laugh like she hasn't had in a while, the kind that grows from inside her stomach and bursts out. Then she slowly stops, saying " _Sorry._ _That was priceless._ "

"Since we cleared that out," he continues, "I am going to introduce you to _T_ _he_ _P_ _lan_." Keith speaks with a voice that made him sound more like a host from a lousy mystery tv show like the Twilight Zone. "Working title."

"This better be damn worth it," Scarah says angrily.

"Oh, it will be. Now as you know, our unsub, now known as Unknown, formerly known as Richard 'Dick' Wayne has a fancy house in the woods. We assumed that's where he took Deuce, so if we're to find him somewhere, it would be there. So I have secretly ventured there in the last couple of days, after school even after nightfall, scouting the area to find it."

"Wait, you went out looking for him alone? Are you insane?!" Devon shouts. This is the first time he sounds truly mad about Keith's actions.

"Don't worry. I always carry protection around, y'know that. Besides I couldn't find it anyway. I checked the entire Slim Shady Oaks area and nothing. Not even a sign that there was ever a house there. It was as if it never existed."

"But that's impossible. Isn't it?" Rochelle asked.

Keith ignores her. "And then I thought maybe is not gone. Maybe is hidden in plain sight."

"How is that possible?" Scarah inquires.

"A concealment spell." Devon answers from behind. His voice still sounded angry.

"Exactly! Magic! We already know this guy's dealing with some serious dark magic. So I narrowed it down to three possibilities: one is that he uses one of those spells that makes a place undetectable for anyone but the caster and those who got the address from him, which is about one of the most complicated spells humans can use, but is really not that complicated and can be easily done or undone by a real witch. Second option: he uses his new power to hide it, which makes things harder, and the third one is he used witch sand to turn into a wizard and use about some of the most powerful concealment spells in the book so only he could get in and out. Which is barely not as bad as option two."

" _And just to be clear, how do you know all that?_ " Ghoulia mumbles.

To which he simply says "I read a lot."

"And how are we going to find him in any case?" Devon inquires. He squinted his eyes.

"Luckily for you, I can make a counter-spell that would work either way, no matter what kind of magic he used or how powerful he think it is, and is so simple even a human like me can use it. Although I'm the only one here who knows about this stuff anyway. All I need is to get the right ingredients."

"Which are?" Devon keeps asking in a inquisitive tone.

"A few very weird spices that might cost me a lot of money and a few debts, I will need to cash in some favors."

"And…?" He continues, knowing fully well he wouldn't like the rest.

"And… blood… from a particularly… elusive goddess… Veritas.."

"Where the hell are you getting her blood?" He asks furiously; and yet, they speak of this with such an indifference — no!, normalcy — as if this were an everyday conversation for them.

And the ghouls had no idea what they were talking about.

"Veritas? What is Veritas?" One of the ghouls asks.

"The Roman goddess of the truth, a daughter of Saturn, god of time, and the mother of Virtue goddess of, well, virtues. I daresay she's related to that girl that left school a few years and looked a little too emo even for Monster High… I think she was Cupid… with some initials, or something. I didn't mind her much," he says trying to recall her student profile. Lucky she left, for she would have been a great sacrifice. "Whatever. Since she's the goddess of truth, you can say she's tricksters' natural enemy. Luckily I read something very interesting the other day in the school library, and I think I can summon her without sacrifices." Keith says so casually, as if he were arranging a get-together with old friends.

"Can you do that?" Scarah asks half intrigued, half in disbelief.

"Yes. He can." Devon says.

The ghouls open their eyes in shock.

This is unbelievable! Now they would call a god too? Of course, given Unknown is using one, it made sense they tried to get one on their side too, but now it turns out Keith has done this before? Who were these guys? And why would he have done such thing?

""How are you doing that?" Rochelle inquires with curiosity too, and yet, like Scarah, not believing them, or rather unsure whether she should. Let alone if this was a good idea.

"Trust me. You don't wanna know," says he.

"And we're just gonna let him do that!?" She cries, looking at Devon.

"We don't have much options, do we?" Devon replies in a sigh. "Is either that, or hoping to catch him while attacking another student."

"Or wait for Richard to finish his ritual so he can destroy all of ASOME; at which point we can assume he will stop hunting students and focus solely on them." Keith blurts out. "I mean, only has three more sacrifices to go, and am sure they all had a great life, or unlife."

"Shut up," Rochelle glares at him, then turns to Devon with a more important question. "Even if we find him, what are we suppose to do? I mean we can't go in guns blazing into his house… We're not going in guns blazing, are we?" She continues, believing for a second this might have been Devon's plan all along.

He did not answer.

"When will you have the spell ready?" He asks utterly ignoring her.

"I got all I need to summon her, but for the counter-spell to reveal his house, I might need a day or two to get all the ingredients. Pray he won't kill another student on the meantime."

"Wait, you're not actually — are you really doing this? Are you really going to summon a pagan god?" Rochelle asks in astonishment.

"Yep." He grins wildly. It wasn't a creepy smile as early, but just a normal smile.

"And you are going to let him do this?" She turns to Devon.

"Yes." He said coldly. "Look, we have done all our police work as we should: we made a profile, found our clues, we followed them and they led us to our suspect. But surprise, surprise, our suspect is so insane, he is using dark magic to commit his crimes. Consorting with evil gods. All rational things we could do, are done, all we can do now is something irrational. And if there is somebody here who knows about that, that is him." He reasons calmly. "So if he says that is the best option we got, then we will have go with his plan — unless you can come up with a better plan."

The ghouls remain silent, looking at each other and then at Devon with no answer.

"You got nothing? Just what I thought," says to the ghouls. "Okay, go summon her," he turns to Keith.

"Roger that. Now, who wants to go shopping with me?" He asks, clapping his hands.

"I don't think so." Rochelle says sharply.

"Sorry, but no. I got better things to do with my morning." Scarah says.

" _Sounds tentative, but I rather watch the news, just in case he attacks again_ _. Also, I promised Spectra I would help her with her website_ _._ "

"Just go," bellows Devon.

Following this order, which was more like a green light for him to get his own way and do something he wanted to try for a long time, Keith leaves the room, with a triumphant air filling his lungs.

"Are we telling Headmistress Bloodgood about this?" Scarah inquires.

"No." He says sharply.

Hauling Nefera's lifeless body on the floor, he was unaware she was leaving behind a blood trail from the wound on her scalp. Although, in all fairness, the basement was poorly lit, with only a weak beam of sunlight leaking through the window. If the area hadn't so many threes, the lighting would be relatively better. He remembers having conversations like this with his wife many times, to which she would always reply "Turn on the bulb light. Is not that hard."

But is not like he bothered darkness now, instead it has become the only way he could live, so he wouldn't have to look at what he has lost, and worse yet, the kind of monster he has become. The fact that he could use boogieman sand to turn into one, thus, being able to get in and out of his house using the shadows in every room, despite the heavy protection spells casted upon it was a fortuitous side effect.

Now, with Nefera's limp body on the scaffold, he proceeds to strip her off of her already skimp clothing, leaving her lithe and lush body fully naked, her tan skin barely visible in the faint light of the basement that shall become her final stage. As he expected, she wore no underwear; her nipples were surprisingly pink.

About half an hour later, she wakes up wondering where was she and what the hell had happened to her. Then she begins to remember. Then she realizes her hands and feet are chained. "HELP! She screams uselessly; the only person to answer her calling was Richard who sat in a chair close to her with his arms draped on his knees.

"No! NO! Stay away from me! STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She shrieks the second she recognizes his dark, hooded and faceless figure, floundering to get away from him. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!l she continues, shaking her legs wildly, hoping to land a kick on him. Now her voice was breaking into a shriek — a truly pitiful cry.

Tears began to stream from her excessively made-up, but still remarkably beautiful face. Her rimel was running down her chicks leaving long blue lines, her mascara long gone; the silver claws jerked up in front of her face ready to seize her again, but it stops only inches from her already closed eyes. Over her crying, she could hear him laughing. It was a low and unsettling laugh. He jerked his claws again. She flinches in fear, more tears came rolling down her eyes in streams.

"Please… I beg you… I have never hurt anyone. Please don't kill me!" She cried in fetal position.

The once prideful and arrogant princess, heiress to an long-time extinct kingdom, now lies on the dirt, stripped away from the fancy and expensive clothing she once gloated about, stripped from all her dignity, begging for her unlife. It was in a word… _delightful._

"How the mighty have fallen…" said in a murmur, gloating on her misery. "But rest assured that whether you live or die is not up to me. That is for them to decide."

12:15 P.M.

de Nile Pyramid.

"Cleo, my dear. Have you seen your elder sister?" Ramses asks walking around the large living room of his pyramid-shaped mansion.

"No. She's probably drunk, faded at some fancy hotel with… Ra knows who," she answers, almost with grudge in her voice, not even caring where her so-loathed sister could possibly be.

"Don't disrespect your sister, Cleo," he bellows. "I sent her last night as my… legal representative in a business meeting I couldn't attend for myself. But… that meeting should have ended hours ago. Your sister should be home by now, or at least she should have called to inform me about the conclusion of the meeting."

"Yeah… As I said, she's probably at some fancy hotel with some guy, or ghoul, or… both," she says again; Ramses glares angrily at his daughter. "Look, you know very well how she is. Even if she went to that meeting, she probably decided to go to some club after that. Is not the first time she does something like that." She sounds (and this is the part when you know she's learned to shut her mouth and not saying everything she has in mind, because she held herself from saying she was most likely sleeping with one of this business partners to dry money out of an old monster who is willing to pay tons of gold to touch a body like hers and maybe even blackmail him, if not her, with nude pictures and videos that could ruin him — if is not a her, of course).

Listening to this response, Ramses drags his feeble old hand on his bandaged face, looking reproachfully at his youngest daughter. He wanted to yell at her for the way she dared to speak about her own sister, but he was too worried about Nefera to concern his mind with such… pity family feuds.

"Just go to your room." He points upstairs. "Remember she's not the only one caught on parties she should not be."

"I was not part of that party!" She blurts.

"Maybe, but you were out of the house without my permission, at night, with a serial killer on the loose! Be glad you're only grounded with being locked in your room." He roars.

 _How ironical._

Angry at her father, she groans, leaving the living room and mumbling curses in her native tongue.

 _At least she can still do some mouthing-off in ancient Egyptian_.

Tired of the never-ending fighting there has been between his two daughters, Ramses sighs deeply, and once again he prays Ra, Isis, and all the gods of the Egyptian pantheon to put an end to this fighting. But most important this time, he begged them for his daughter to be safe, away from the reach of this new threat, for you see, deep in his mummified heart, which he kept in a safe box at the bank, he feared she would be next. You could call it paternal instinct, you could call it paranoia, some sixth sense, or simply common sense, but he was sure something was wrong with his daughter, and he knew if any harm comes to her, he was the only one to blame.

And much like her father can't stop thinking about his beloved Nefera, Cleo can't stop thinking about Deuce. Today the doctors would allow him to leave the hospital, and she couldn't be there with him. And she missed him so badly, she needed him more than anyone, and much more than ever. She missed to hear his voice, his laughter, to kiss his fleshy lips, his warm breath against her neck. To hold his strong and firm hand as they walked in the Maul, and sleeping with her face buried on his chest, with his well shaped arms around her, and the hissing of his _snake-hawk_ on her ears.

She never got the chance to tell him he was the only person who ever made her feel truly alive.

But at least one good thing happened today, other than Deuce going home. The doctors called saying they might have found a donner, a dead guy with eyes to spare, in other words, he might be able to see again; but as wonderful as this news might be, she had to be honest with herself. Even if these new eyes worked, they wouldn't be the hopeful emerald colored eyes she loved. And wouldn't that make it an empty victory?

If only she could find his eyes.

01:35 P.M.

An hour after lunch, Lorna rushed up to her room, waiting for a video chat with her loved one. I could call him her boyfriend, but he's still dating another ghoul, and she's but the ghoul with whom he's cheating on Lagoona, so she doesn't really qualify as his ghoulfriend yet — I already told all this, like in chapter IV or V, but whatever. It had been three days since she slept with Gil, since she gave him her virginity, and for the way it looked, since he gave her his…

And as I wrote that, I realized I could have opened with a better sentence.

Let me star over again…

…

…Nope! I got nothing.

As I was saying, three days had passed since these two lost their virginity to each other, and in doing so, they unknowingly got themselves out of harm's way, since Unknown wouldn't have any use for them…

But that was beside the point.

The moment Gil got to lay hands on a computer, which he could only do for as long as his father was at work, since he was grounded the old fashion way with an extra of no Internet, no phones and no tv, he calls for his Scottish lover ghoul… That probably doesn't sound right either, but who cares?

Everyone at school would believe he'd use his limited time online to call Lagoona, but it was Lorna's voice he urged to hear, her face he longed to see, her accent he craved to enjoy…

She was everything he needed at this moment, and words could not describe the happiness he felt in his heart when he heard her voice again, even now his guilt for his hideous cheating on Lagoona couldn't cloud the joy that overrode him, and it was evident by the way he would smile unabashedly in front of the camera. And now they were alone, they would express their love in every way they could, except for kissing at the screen, or getting naked in front of the camera; that would be just retarded.

For Toralei of course, their love triangle was only, and just barely more interesting than a _telenovela_ simply because this wasn't some shitty show with bad writing and worse acting. No!, this shit, this was real life, these were people she knew, people who really had something to lose… and lives with which she could mess. That didn't stop these two love seabirds from acting and sounding all corny and sappy with each other, though. She had to stop herself from throwing up twice, from the edge of the window upon which she squats so perfectly balanced thanks to her feline _attributes_ ; this window being the one from the room next to Lorna's, and her cat ears wee so good at catching every single word they said.

And right now she wondered _what should I do_ , for you see, the things she had heard just the last hour were more than enough to create some real drama, and you know how she loves it. She was a real life _Gossip Ghoul_ , but… even she had to admit to herself that right now might not be the moment to make more drama around the school, specially between her favorite fishing buddies and, wouldn't it be better to wait just for a couple of months for this to grow and then blow it on their faces when it would be so much worse? Assuming of course it won't explode on its own sooner.

This was the part when she would daydream, and with a large smile on her orange face she would imagine which would be funnier to watch. And is only by mere chance, or so would it seem, that she sees the new guys walking into one of the many, _many_ catacomb entries. And she wondered so curiously and dreamily _what are Beavis and Butt-Head doing underground?_

Now, she normally doesn't care about what these normies do since she didn't find them that interesting, she thought Devon and Keith were cute guys (even though they're humans), but she wasn't going over her heels like the other ghouls. But ever since this morning, she had a completely different opinion of them, specially Keith, whom she had to admit, remind her a lot of herself.

Now, let's take a little pause to notice how it went from Gil and Lorna to Toralei and the dynamic duo, and how I made you believe I was going to talk about those ill-fated lovers, but then I didn't. That is what I call transition! Now, I'm not even sure if that's really the name for it, am not saying that is the name, but I think it has a name. I am… partially sure that there must be a name for it, maybe I should've paid more attention to my literature teacher instead of just staring at her, pretending I'm listening as I do with my dates. But enough of that, let's go back to the story.

Toralei had absolutely no idea what these two could be doing down there, but it was evident they wanted privacy. Whatever their plans were, they're supposed to be a secret, so naturally, she had to know, thus she would jump from the widow and land lightly behind one of the many unmarked tombstones that decorate the school, and moved careful so they wouldn't notice her following them. And using every ounce of her feline skills, she follows them through the catacombs into a cavernous, dark, large and ominously dark room. So dark she could barely see anything even with her night vision and I had to mention it twice.

Then a blinding light came from Devon's hand, forcing her to cover her eyes with her hand as they adapt to this sudden change of light, he was carrying a powerful flashlight that illuminates the cavernous room with its white light flowing in all directions. It was very bright and white, can you believe that!?

Rich people always gets the best stuff! Even their key-holder/lanterns are way better than poor people's. It is to hate them.

Luckily for her, she didn't make any sound and she was standing behind a large rock, twice her size, and wide enough to hide her even with such a light illuminating the place.

Toralei watches them for a while trying to understand what were they doing; Keith carried a shoulder bag full of weird stuff: candles, dry plants, goblets, very old-looking books, spray cans, and a chalk box, and even a roll-up bag in the other hand, much like the one used by _Dexter Morgan_ ; she only hoped he wasn't using it to carry knives too, although that would be very sexy. Devon also carried a bag, only he held less things than him, several types handcuffs, chains, and a rope.

Again, _What were these two up to?_ she asked herself, it almost seemed as if they had planned to kidnap somebody and keep it locked in here.

And I could keep going with this part of the story, but I think I should better focus on somebody else for a little while.

Managing a news website with thousands of readers is not an easy task. That is something Spectra had to learn the hard way. She believed that it wouldn't be any more difficult than managing her gossip blog, but turns out she was wrong, it was worse. The hardest part of course, was to get all the information right.

Accuracy was the only thing she wanted for her news site, _The Gory Gazette_. But the journalistic work needed to achieve the quality standards she desired — the same of any big time news page, was too much for a single ghost. She would get help from her ghoulfriends from time to time, and more recently she joined forces with the school news team, that made the retrieval of information easier than when she worked alone, but it was still up to her to search for the right information and the most shocking and relevant news. There was a time in which she had to fight with advertisements posing as news in her website, but she got rid of them, so she could go back to hunting news. And of course, when her dear schoolmates were attacked by an unknown hunter, that the local news so "cleverly" called _Unknown_ , she had to confront a situation in which she had to be professional and distant herself from her emotional ties to the victims and report the news as if she didn't know them.

Of course, it was very hard to watch the pictures of her friends and write about how Deuce lost his eyes and how Jackson/Holt died by sound with his brain jelled out of his skull. She didn't even feel there was a real need to write about it since everyone at school wouldn't stop talking about them, but as a reporter she had a responsibility to tell the truth to the world, as little as her world might be. Some would actually think she was being cold by not putting her friends first, and even an insensitive bitch, using such tragedies to get more views in her site, but she was a journalist and the job comes with sacrifices. Although is not a job if is not paid, and as she investigates deeper, she found some good news for her friends.

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood had hired a private investigator to solve this case before the police even bothered to do it, this P.I. being Devon Darkholme. This was supposed to be a secret, so, supernaturally she told everyone at school, because, why hiring a _private_ investigator, to capture a serial killer and keeping it a secret, if is not for the whole school to know? I mean, is not like this doesn't qualify as doing things under the table, and surely his investigation won't be messed with because of this.

 _I love reporters who have absolutely zero understanding of the very simple and essential concept of privacy._

She was forced to take it out of her website by the principal as soon as it came out, though, but her friends got to the article. This shined a little light in this tragic moment. And not many read the article, even then not all those who read it believe it, so it barely passed as something more than a rumor.

 _Now, this brought back an air of the old days. They truly missed them._

But doing such a stupid and daring thing as posting information about a secret and ongoing murder investigation led by the SST almost gets her expelled from Monster High. Maybe the headmistress felt pity for her, or maybe she just didn't feel like losing another student, but for whatever reason, she only got suspension for a the rest of the semester, and she was forbidden from writing about the investigation. She dodged that bullet.

But then two purple cannons came out. Operetta's big dance show in Jackson/Holt's bonfire-memorial. What a better news than one of the school's favorite ghoul dancing half-naked on Manny's back? It was the kind of news she would love, because she was right there when it happened, so she would have as much accuracy as possible and who wouldn't read an article about big purple teenage boobs? Only she wouldn't post such a headline. At least not now, with all that's happening.

So when she saw it on her website, she knew immediately somebody had just hacked her page. And it was because of that same undesired news that Ms. Bloodgood knew what was happening at the woods.

When she saw her breaking into the party on her horse, she thought she was dead again. Dead and expelled.. But much to her fortune, she has a very loyal friend in Ghoulia who proved Bloodgood she wasn't responsible for Operetta's video on her website.

And now she would help her improve her site's security so this wouldn't happen again. She would also use this opportunity to try to find Unknown through the IP he used to hack her site (because it was obvious for the whole SST this was his doing). Something she found way more difficult than she imagined. The guy was insanely good at hiding his track.

The only way for her to find him would be if he hacked her website again… which he so happens to do at this very moment.

Just when she got rid of the first video, he posts a new video, but this was different. This was a streaming video of… Nefera!

"Oh my Soul!" Spectra gasped in awe, taking both her transparent hands to her mouth, her large eyes widened even more in shock when she saw her naked body with only her bandages on her arms and legs, chained to a wall. "That is Cleo's sister. What is she…? This is…"

" _Another sacrifice…_ " she groaned.

"A what?" Spectra asked, having no idea what Ghoulia meant.

" _I have to call Devon and Rochelle,_ " she grumbled frantically, hitting the speed dial on her iCoffin. Devon was the first call, but due to the catacombs having zero reception, he wouldn't get the call, leaving only Rochelle to call.

As soon as she gets the call, she pushes her roommate Robecca off her laptop to check on the video, and she discovers with horror in her hearth that the third sacrifice was in progress.


	13. Chapter 13

XIII

A few minutes ago _…_

"You will pay for this, you heard me!? You will regret this!" Nefera cried at Unknown; blue colored tears left stains on her legs. "Don't you recognize royalty when you see it? I am Nefera de NIle. Daughter of Ramses de Nile, princess and heiress to—"

"Heiress to what!? An empire that no longer exists!? Princess of a long dead kingdom?" He interrupted her. "Go ahead. I'm looking forward to hear what you got to say. A princess of a kingdom long buried and lost in the sands of time, heiress of the crown of an imaginary empire that she will never possess. You see, I know very well who you are," he hissed softly. "I know your entire unlife is a lie, that's why I choose you. And I am not afraid of you, or your pathetic father."

He spoke with hatred steaming from his heart. Nefera gave him a scornful look.

"Soon. Very soon, my father will find you, and you will regret this," said defiantly.

Unknown laughed with real joy of this sudden turn of hers.

"Feisty now. I like that," says from behind his black mask, taking off his hood.

He was only a black figure barely visible by the faint light that seeped through the window, dimly illuminating the dark basement.

"What do you think you will get from this, anyway?" Said Nefera, her voice breaking again.

"What makes you think I want to get anything from this? I have done nothing but helping your kind as I always have." He said now with a softer and more relaxed voice.

"Well, you've done a craptastic job, let me tell you. You got an odd definition of helping," retorted Nefera; her hands were numbing for the tightness of her chains.

"Oh, but I have, now, I suppose I should at least let you in." Sounded he, sitting back on his spinning chair. On his left lays a cooler from which he took a can of beer, he opened the beer using his clawless hand only and took a drink as if he were sitting on his living room, watching a sport's game. _Let's see how many of you know how to open a beer with one hand._ "It is only fair you know what you're dying for," he made a little pause and took a deep breathe. "War! See, your friends from ASOME, they have been waiting — begging for this. An excuse to go to war with us, _normies_ , and truth is humans and monsters have been on the brink of a war for years. We just needed a little push, and as the monster loving person I am — and please, don't be mistaken by my recent action which I know can be misinterpreted for how ambiguous they are —, I gave them the excuse they begged for."

"And you think this will start a monster-human war?" she asked in shock. "By killing a few dweebs from an overrated high school, and all the heads of ASOME? If you kill all the ones who can give the order, how you know they'll be going to war instead of hiding in fear like the cowards they are?"

Her voice changed. She sounded reasonable and cold. She tried her best to keep herself calm. Whatever he was planning, she had to stale it, she had to buy time. That was her only option now.

"Well, of course they will, they can't allow themselves to look weak, and when they hit back, humans will hit harder," he paused again to take another drink of cold beer. "Tell me, do you know how many times we've come close to world war three over a flock of vampires flying as bats on a computer screen, because they were too cheap to pay for an airplane and have zero concern for human laws? Do you know what triggered the last world war?" He leaned on closer to her face again, scared, Nefera crawled back. "An argument over how many telegraph poles Germany owed its war debt creditors! Telegraph poles!" He laughed madly. "It's all a joke! Everything anybody ever valued or struggled for… it's all a monstrous, demented gag! And the funniest part is that all nations and everything they based themselves on such as moral — every ideal, every notion of patriotism is all but a lie. An excuse to promote hatred between pairs. How disgusting!" He sounded as though a sudden stench, like that of fresh shit, had suddenly stricken his nose. "But… humans and monster are not pairs. We are as different as we come. I had to learn that the hard way… so it is totally natural and understandable that we war each other. Hence, it is only logical and acceptable, even though it is also regrettable. The only logical outcome that can come from our interaction. We're nothing but rivals species struggling to reach the peak of the food chain. And sadly, despite all your attributes, you monsters are so behind in the evolutionary race. Just back in the ninety's we could have killed all your leaders with the simple click of a mouse on a poorly pixeled screen. Now we could destroy all of you with a joystick and see how you squirm in pain on high definition while eating nachos. We can even use our children to kill you, telling them is a simple video game, and it _is_ a game! We have come so far that life and death is nothing but a game now!"

Nefera was stunned and confused, what was he talking about? He was making zero sense. The only thing she agreed and understood is that humans and monster will never get along and the only way one side can thrive is destroying the other.

But other than that, no matter how she looked at it, his words were absolutely crazy. Just random ranting. Like… Donald Trump!

 _Dick Wayne ladies and gentlemen, can kill a room full of monsters, can't improvise a proper speech/evil monologue._

 _Future president!_

"You must be absolutely insane if you believe a single word of what you just said makes any sense. If this is how our conversation are going to be, just kill me now." Said she.

Calmly, he drinks all his beer on one gulp and throws the can at her.

"But you know it is true. War is only one step ahead." He leaned back on his chair again, with his palms facing each other with just the fingertips touching, just the same way Mr. Burn does, careful not to cut himself with his claws. "And since the world will be deciding what will become of you… can history really say it was all the act of one man, when they were calling the shots? I don't think so… I don't think so…" said almost pensively.

Now…

Ghoulia types as fast as she could in order to take down the video and the link attached, but no matter what she tried, the video wouldn't go. She tries taking down the whole website, but she couldn't. Then she tries tracking the signal, but again it's to no avail; the IP would change every fifteen seconds. This man was going to kill Nefera de Nile in a live broadcast and she couldn't do anything to stop him.

 _What a great hacker you are! I thought you were the best teenage white hat there is. This guy is beating you with one hand._

This is when Spectra realizes there is a second video. This one came in a second article published just a few seconds before Nefera's, that reads:

Unknown 2, ASOME 0!

Last night, more high members of the fascist monster group known as Ancient Society Of Monster Elites, or ASOME, were brutally slaughtered by the unknown Monster Hunter who provided the authorities with a second video of his hunting, evidence of how the authorities and investigators, police or otherwise, are unable to stop him…

Bellow, there was the video of how he killed the heads of ASOME, only this one is different, this one is clearly from his point of view.

"Is he using a Go-Pro?" Rochelle notices.

"It would appears so…" Spectra says floating above her head.

Almost as soon as she reads this, Scarah turns to one of the computers that Ghoulia isn't using and searches for news of Unknown, and in fact little before hacking Spectra's website, he sent that same video to all the other local news stations, news papers and the police. If by sending, you mean he hacked their websites too and posted the same article in all of them, then yes, he _sent_ the video to all of them. And of course he signed the article with the name they gave him.

 _Ha! Looks like it grew on him._

"Okay… what now?" Scarah asks.

She was just about to take a shower when Rochelle sent her a text telling her to come to their HQ asap. She was in shock to see how far this has come and how quickly.

"What now? Now you should be contacting Devon and Keith!" Says Rochelle pinning her thumb's claw in her phone's touch screen, breaking it, frustrated for not being able to make contact with any of them.

Scarah Screams, being the telepathic banshee that she is, had established a psychic link with her SST partners from day one in case one of them couldn't be reached by phone during an emergency such as this; she never thought she would have to use it, but Devon has just been proved to be right when he said they might need it. So without wasting any time, she held her hand to her head and sends a message to Devon and Keith… except the message never makes it. For whatever reason she couldn't establish a psychic connection with them.

"Ghouls… I… can't make any psychic connection with them," she announces.

"What do you mean you can't!? Did you forget to pay your psychic rent?!" Rochelle bellows.

"First of all, that was uncalled for. I can sense your frustration, but that doesn't help;" said as calmly as she could, "and secondly, I don't know why I can't make any connection with them. It is as if they were out of reach, but only way that could happen is for them to be out of town or… dead."

"What?! Just when we need them the most they decide to just… disappear?" She asks angrily. "Where the Hell could they be?!"

"Keith said he was going to summon a goddess, maybe…"

"Wait, you don't think he was being serious about it, don't you?" Rochelle interrupts her.

"I read his mind and he seemed very serious about it."

"Great! So now Keith's gone awol, trying to call a pagan god, and Devon decides this was the moment to tag along with him. Could anything else go wrong!?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe?" Scarah answers, getting a peeved (to say the least) look from the gargoyle. "At least she's not an student anymore. That means she's not really our responsibility, so Bloodgood doesn't really have anything to complain with us, neither to worry. That is that silver lining if I ever saw one."

"What?" She asks bemused.

"I'm just trying to see the bright side here." Scarah expresses with some frustration of her own.

Rochelle sighs and groans, pressing her eyes, muttering "Where the HELL are they?!"

And our dear gargoyle could never imagine that all they had to do to reach them, was taking a little stroll on the school cemetery, and take the nearest route to the catacombs, into the closest cave, where Keith paints on the floor, and the walls very old — ancient even — sigils that he would use to summon Veritas. Sigils he learned long ago — well, that's another story that has no real relevance today, just know he's doing something that would make John Constantine and the Winchester brothers very proud, and envious even.

Really! What he's about to do, summoning, binding and coaxing a pagan's hand into helping them take down another pagan's avatar? That's a very risky — bold and ballsy movement over there, and a very desperate one.

"Are you done there?" Devon asks as he puts all the ingredients into the last bowl, set in the middle of the biggest sigil painted on the floor.

The cave was now brightly illuminated by Devon's limited edition White Lantern… lantern.

"Almost." Says painting a dot, pressing the spray paint just one last time. "And we're done."

 _Well, this is interesting. I think I might know why they were chosen for this program_ , thinks Toralei. _I might not be a witch's cat, but I can recognize witchcraft whenever I see it. And this boys over here, it looks like they're going to mess with something really dangerous… and I so got to be here to see that._

"Does she really believe we haven't noticed her presence?" Devon asks, still acting oblivious of her presence.

"I think she does. Cats think they're on top of everything. Like it wasn't obvious she followed us from the cemetery," Keith replies taking out a laser pointer attached to his key-holder

For a second she was in shock, they knew she was spying on them all along?! Why wouldn't they say anything? And how could they notice her? She tried to understand how. But then she lost the train of thought when the red dot — that damn, hypnotic red laser beam from the key-holder, is casted on the floor!. Then all her thoughts were clouded by an animalistic — primitive you could say — instinct that compels her to hunt that little dot no matter where it goes.

She had to catch it!

 _I have to catch it!_

Losing control of herself, she jumps after it, on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling! Then the floor again.

"Man, knock off it already," Devon tells Keith, half amused, yet half annoyed.

"Oh, c'mon! Is hilarious. Besides, when else we'll get the chance to see her like this?" Asks, as Toralei takes on the same position as big felines do when readying themselves to pounce upon a prey, with her tail way up and wiggling slowly, as the laser is casted still on the floor. And with her in this position, they got a perfect view of her well shaped ass in that tight black leather pant.

"Yes, it is fun, but we got work to do." He insisted trying not to laugh.

He has forgotten how much fun it could be working with Keith.

"Fine," he agrees, moving the laser to the center of the cave; the spell was almost ready. Only one key ingredient missing.

Immediately, he turns off the laser.

"Oh… what happened?" She asks as she retrieves her self-control. "You used a laser, didn't you?" She goes on, sounding upset.

"Yep," he admits grinning proudly.

"Don't you ever do that again!"

"Not making any promises, now be a dear and tell me what does this smell like to you." Says taking out a small and long bottle with yellow powder in it, then blowing it in her face as he murmurs something she couldn't understand.

She sneezes. The next second, she falls asleep.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Devon asks him.

"Not at all."

"Of course. But before we get going… what's with that outfit?" He asks confused by Keith's sudden change of appearance.

Wearing beige pants, a light green shirt with a black neck tie with silver dots, a V-neck vest on top and moccasins that, even though clearly old they were impeccably polished unlike most his other shoes, he looked as a whole different person, and even more shocking, he brushed his hair! As best as he could, of course.

"I thought you said you were going to use only leather this month."

"I was," Keith adds, "but we're summoning a goddess here, so… I might as well look my best. You know, so she won't think I'm just some punker trying to screw around with her. I wanna look the less threatening to her, only in case the restrains won't work and she breaks free wanting to… savagely smash our heads. Besides, I hadn't dressed like this in a long time."

"Right… You always look like the nerd guy from Criminal Minds whenever you dress like that."

"I take that as a compliment! Reid is the best character they have."

Diving in her memories, and naturally, her pictures of Deuce, Cleo daydreams of his return — hoping and even even praying for the surgery to work, so once he's out they can take as much time as they can for themselves on her father's ludicrously long yatch ( _that must be an overcompensation for something else_ ), take it as deep and far as they can into the endless blue sea, and at the end of the day see the colors of the sunset blending on the surface, while tightly wrapped in his strong arms. It might sound silly, but is exactly what she wanted to do, it was something that had no explanation.

No!

There is one logical explanation, that what she feels is definitely the thing they call true love, the undying feeling to be with that one person, to sacrifice everything for him and his happiness, knowing that he, or she, would do same for you without a single thought; understanding he is the one and only monster in the world that makes her happy, and despite all the times he's said, thought or felt like she deserved more than him, she could never, not even in another five thousand years, find somebody as perfect for her as he is.

And a funny thing it is, for you see, ages ago she was only happy if she had gold in her hands and the adoration of everyone — every single monster in sight, chanting her name and fawning at her feet, and even though she still enjoys when people calls her name and sees her as the royalty she still believes to be, in her heart of hearts she knows this to be truth, and it is that she would give up EVERYTHING in the world — her richness, fancy clothes, even her place in the succession line (which isn't that long to begin with) just to spend one more day with him, something Ramses knows very well since she has said it (well, I wouldn't call it exactly _say_ , it is more like shouting, you can imagine) every time he insists Deuce is an idiot unworthy of her and all the crap she's so dead tired of hearing.

Her father would die all over again if he found out they're already engaged and all they're waiting to get married is to finish high school.

BUZZ — BUZZ!

The vibrating sound of her secret phone pulls her from her thoughts. This phone (which is two years old if you can believe it!), she got it for times like this, when her father Ramses grounds her and takes away her regular, or more accurately her newest state-of-the-art and hottest thing in the market phone and computer, and tablet, all to keep her locked away from the rest of the world.

"What now? This better be worth it." Says angrily. It was a call from Ghoulia. She knew it was an emergency on the spot, or else she wouldn't call. "You can't call me just like that," whispers into her phone so the Anubis guards standing outside her door and windows wouldn't listen.

" _Oh my God, so you still don't know?_ " She asks. The panic in her mumbling voice is palpable even through the phone.

"What?! What happened? Is there something wrong with Deuce?!" She questions, quick to fear the worse.

" _No. Is not Deuce — is your sister._ "

"Ah, _that thing_." Cleo says in relief with a hint of disdain, and losing total interest.

" _I don't know how to tell you this_ —"

"Fine. Then don't do it."

" _Cleo, this isn't a joke, this is bad._ " Cries out Ghoulia.

"What's with her now? Is she arrested for public nudity again, or did she say something stupid on tv? Either way, whatever she did, I don't care."

" _You don't understand — is on the news already—_ "

"I can't watch the news. I got no tv." Cleo interrupts her.

" _She's being sacrificed right now!_ " Ghoulia groans. Cleo's jaw almost drops to the floor and her phone almost falls off her hand when she heard those words. " _She is the third sacrifice, she is—_ "

"The prostitute." Cleo infers.

" _Yes… It — it is on the news and the Internet. It is horrible. I have been trying to take it off, but it is impossible. I'm sorry I —_ "

Cleo was in utmost shock. "Thanks for telling me Ghoulia. I gotta go now." Says in an monotonous voice. "I can't believe that shit."

Quickly, Cleo searches for the latest news of her sister on her phone.

It took a while because she had to use her phone Internet, and signal isn't strong today, not to mention she made the idiotic mistake of not renewing her Internet service plan this month. And you must know how awful it is to use the phone's Internet with credit only, it's never as good as when you got wi-fi.

…

…It says it's loading… still loading…

…

Finally she gets what she wanted.

"Oh. My. RA!"

She could not believe that shit!

 _This can't be real! This can't be happening! My sister is going to die!_ Cleo thinks.

Her one and only sister, Nefera de Nile, who has always been there for her to take everything that was hers, to laugh at her disgrace and cause her even more, her so hated big sister is at the hands of Unknown! Naked, before a camera for the whole world to see her die.

"Could it be… that after all this years… I'll finally get rid of her?!" She says to herself in excitement.

… _So far for sisterly love_ —

On the other hand… is not really a surprise, is it? Nefera always hated her, it is only natural she hates her back, and the way she treated her, always acting as if she were lesser than her. As if they didn't share the same blood, or as if Cleo were there to please her needs. Always manipulating her, taking away what's hers and ruining her happiness with Deuce, always sitting with their father, telling her she can't date him, playing him so he would break up with her, forcing her to marry a lame prince in her place, so she remains free to keep sleeping with anyone who can afford her!

And always bossing her as if she had authority over her! Is she supposed to be her sister or her mother?!

 _Wouldn't be surprised to hear she is both, they're old Egyptians, aren't they?_

Good point.

And now, all her unlife of mischief, and whoring, have surmounted to this, her blood being spilled in a ritual, as a sacrifice for the gods, as the worst and filthiest of offers: The prostitute.

 _That's what you get for trying to ruin what Deuce and I have!_ She thinks with a large grin in her fine lips. _You were always_ _jealous_ _,_ _miserable, pathetic and alone. Always trying to ruin my unlife, simply because you never knew what true love was_ … _your whole unlife wasted on debauchery, always looking at me from above as if you_ _were_ _better. And now look at you, hedonistic bitch! This were some really good news. Maybe that son of a bitch will do something good after all_ _…_ _But now_ _I_ _gotta tell dad the news._ _And_ _I doubt_ _g_ _e_ _t_ _s as excited as_ _I_ _am._

And now she prepares herself for a performance worthy of an Oscar (or whatever monster counterpart they got).

If she ever had a chance to show off her talents, it was now. Prepare world, the star actress is ready to shine. Watch me now!

But first she asks her guards for one of their phones. Wouldn't want him to know that she has a secret phone.

"Father! Father!" She yells running into his office.

"What is it, my princess?!" He asks, worried by the incredibly genuine-sounding tone of horror in her voice and the many tears that pour along her eyes.

"Oh, daddy. This is awful…" she began. _C'mon, make its sound real!_ , she thinks, and with utmost control, Cleo makes voice tremble a little. "I… I… I took one of my guard's phone to see if there was any news about that hunter, if he has hurt any other of my friends, and… what I found is…" and here at the end of the sentence Cleo croaks as if her words were stuck in her throat. She even makes sure her voice is high-pitched and trembling — the trembling is one of the most important things to make a real-looking cry, or so her acting teacher said —, and of course, she didn't forget to look down to avoid meeting his eyes.

"What? What is it? What did you find?" Ramses asks, getting off his chair.

"H-He… he's got Nefera!" Cleo's voice breaks into petrified sobs, sounding as if she were in real pain, truly devastated by the news, and then, as if the stammering wasn't enough, she begins to cry with real tears, tears she has learned how to control at her will.

 _Damn she is good! Better than when Leo got fucked by a bear._

Damn right she is! There's no way she would lose another part in a school play to Clawdeen or Draculaura. And you wouldn't believe the many hours she spent taking acting lessons.

 _And here people think she's a slow learner._

But whereas her pain is a farce, and a very real-looking one, her father's is not. In shock and horror, he drops onto his high-backed chair, half not believing what he just heard and half feeling like he knew this all along. And thank Ra that his heart is in a jar and mummified, or else he would have plummeted onto the floor with a heart attack.

"No…" he mumbles, then he lets out a powerful shriek. "NOOOO!"

It was a shriek coated in dread, grief, and impotence and beneath all that, self-loathing.

 _This is all my fault_ , he thinks. And yeah, he-he!, he is right. If only he hadn't sent her to that meeting, or joined ASOME in the first place. _Look what your ambition has done, all for that pathetic desire to create a new empire, you fool!_ …

02:12 PM

The Catacombs

" _Meow!_ Get this chains off of me!" Toralei hisses madly, glaring at Devon and Keith. She was angry, hungry and confused. She had no idea what was going one, and she didn't want to know.

"Like you haven't had chains before." Keith grins.

"I don't like them. And I'm not going to be part of whatever sick game you're playing." Toralei yells with her nasal voice.

"Well, I woke up chained once… and naked," Keith confesses. Toralei throws a look that said What the hell? "I know, it really isn't a nice picture."

Now with her chained inside a summoning circle, Keith had all he needed to summon Veritas and force her inside a, shall we say, unwilling vessel.

"Just let me go, you son of a bitch!" she snarls wildly.

"She's feisty, that's good. Keep it up and you'll may survive the experience, and as for letting you go… I'm sorry sweetie, but that is an I can't do. I need you as a host for our… let's say guest." Keith answers, opening a very old book titled Fantastic Gods and Where to Find Them. "So stay quiet, I need to read this instructions and I haven't used my Latin in a long time."

"What?"

"Here it says that first you need to pay a small blood tribute first," Devon reads above Keith's chronically rounded shoulders. Of course he was very fluent in Latin as well as Keith.

"I know what that means," Keith says curtly, closing the book, putting it under his arm, then unsheathing his kris dagger, which reflected dully the white light of the lantern.

He was ready to cut the palm of his hand when Devon stops him saying "Maybe… I should do this. Out of the two of us, who's the one we can say is the most honest."

"Not sure that would be the one who lied about his age to get this job, but I can't argue your point." Keith agrees, handing over the dagger to Devon.

"I didn't lie _per se_. I just spoke of a near future as if had already happened. Is a matter of perspective," reason Devon.

"Well, look at you. I've never been so proud of you," Keith reckons with a genuine _I am so proud of you_ tone.

He surely is a bad influence on him.

Unceremoniously, he kneels before the copper bowl in front of Toralei, which was the first of a set of three bowls that formed a triangle inside the circle surrounding Toralei.

Murmuring some words in Latin that she couldn't understand, he places the blade on his hand, and with a quick slashing motion, he slices his palm — the blade cuts deeply — it was a sharp pain and it burns like hell, blood pours out from his hand dribbling into the bowl with the other ingredients, some of them being grains of paradise seed, and devil's shoestring, among other that I could mention, but I'm not going to.

And the moment he cuts his own hand, Toralei couldn't avoid to hear the slashing sound it made. Sometimes she really hated her feline hears; it makes her imagine what he was feeling right now, as if his handsome face twisted by the pain wasn't enough to demonstrate how much it hurts, although she had to admit it was a nice sound, much like that of a lemon being cut. And it was evident the dagger was really sharp. It reminds her of the knives used in those cooking shows she watches whenever she's high on catnip. As in "Today we're cooking a delicious normie palm. Now, can I get thumbs up?"

 _Maybe she's still a little high._

Soon as the bowl is full of blood, Keith begins the incantation in Latin, an incantation that shan't be mentioned because it is of my best interest to prevent anyone who reads this from doing something stupid as summoning Veritas, so I will just give you the most generic of incantations.

" _Azarath metrion zinthos!_ "

And with a match, he sets the bowl full of blood on fire. Then a huge and bright crimson flame that erupts from the bowl, and is immediately followed by two more flames erupting from the other bowls which were half-filled with Toralei's blood, extracted with a needle when she slept.

The lighting of the cave goes from intense white to red.

Toralei is surprised, as well as confused. She still doesn't know what is going on, but right now, she is more confused by the flaming blood. She didn't know it could burn like that, if at all. Maybe she should pay a lot more attention to biteology class.

 _Or I think she_ _ **is**_ _still a little high._

"Well… now what?" Asks Devon.

"I don't know, remember I'm a street magician. I learned almost all I know about magic on the streets, not… Hogwarts. Honestly I thought there'll be some flashing or something." Keith confesses.

"Just to be clear what is exactly all of this?" Toralei inquires, more irritated than before.

"Eh… well, since this is clearly retarded effect, something I didn't expect…" Keith begins, when the cave suddenly begins to quake. "Now, this is something I actually thought could happen. Just—"

"Let me guess, didn't expect it." Devon cuts him off.

"Yeah."

And while their biggest concern now is to find cover from the rocks, Rochelle wishes she could find cover from Headless Headmistress Bloodgood. Indeed, she has been trying to avoid her for the last twenty minutes.

She was sure Bloodgood is about to give them the axe.

 _This has gone to far_ , she thinks. _She's gonna tell us we can't keep doing this, or even worse, that we did a terrible work. That I am not fit as head of the SST! And if she tells me to stop this investigation, then how would I protect my friends!?_

She wandered around the halls, avoiding every place she could meet her, consumed by her nerves, and jumping every time she heard hoofs pondering near her. She hopped from place to place, looking over her shoulders at every sound, she didn't know what would happen next!

Until she finally meets her in the way to the SST' HQ.

 _The only flaw in her another wise, perfect plan of hiding everywhere in the school: going to the first place she'd look for her._

"Ms. Goyle, I need a word with you. Please, come to my office," says plainly, and as she spoke, the most ominous feeling sank in her heart.

This was by far the longest walk to the principal's office she has ever had.

"So—"

"I know this is terrible — but she _isn't_ a student," she says quickly, without much thinking, already predicting were this conversation would end. "So is not really someone _we_ should protect, our concern is only to protect those who still come here. Is not our fault."

"What?" She sounds. For a moment there, Bloodgood seemed to struggle with herself, then said "Where are Mr. Darkholme and Morningstar?"

"They are… awol," she confesses, avoiding her eyes.

"What do you mean 'awol'?" She sounded coldly.

"It means absent without a license… which is to say they're gone," explains, avoiding eye contact.

"Gone where?" She continues, glaring at her angrily.

"Well… I don't know." Rochelle continues, still avoiding meeting her eyes.

"Well, find them! He should be leading this investigation, how can he—"

Just in that precise moment, she is interrupted by a small earthquake that takes down everything from her shelves and desk. Her loyal horse Nightmare, rises her fore paws, startled by this sudden quake.

And as soon as it came, the earthquake was over, and Bloodgood was on the floor. Quickly Rochelle rushes to pick her up, putting her back on her body.

"Thanks, Ms. Rochelle." Says fairly startled.

Then she goes silent for a few moments in which the only sound she made was from her her breathing as she tries to calm herself down.

"I want you to find him and bring him to my office." Bloodgood orders coldly.

"Yes sir." Rochelle says, fearing Bloodgood would finish alll for which they worked.

Quickly, she leaves Bloodgood's office only to tumble with Scarah and Ghoulia who had fallen due to the earthquake, the zombie girl pads the floor in search for her glasses.

"Ghoulia, what are you doing here? Did you finally get that awful video off the website?" She inquires, helping up her friend.

" _No. There's no way to take it off, but I think I know where the guys are,_ " she groans.

"Excellent! Where?!"

With her tablet, Ghoulia shows her a security video of Keith and Devon walking into the catacombs, closely followed by a sneaky Toralei.

"Why do I got a bad feeling about this?"

AT LAST! I CAN FINALLY SUBMIT CHAPTER 13 ON, WELL, LOOK AT THE DATE, FRIDAY THE 13TH, COULDNT HAVE PLANNED THAT MYSELF

I WISH I COULD PUBLISH MORE OFTEN, BELIEVE ME I DO, IT KILLS ME OT TO PUBLISH AS SOON AS I GOT SOMETHING I LIKE, BUT WITHOUT INTERNET OF MY OWN FOR ALMOST A YEAR, I HAVE TO WALK AN HOUR TO MY GRAMMA'S TO OIGGYBACK HERS, WHICH ISN'T FUN, SO I APOLOGIZE FOR THOSE WHO RED THISE AND CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHAT'S NEXT. ALSO I SPENT A FEW WEEKS WITHOUT ANYTHING OF MY LIKING SO I HAD TO WRITE SEVERAL TIMES THE SAME CHAPTER

ANYHOW, THIS RANTING IS DONE, HOPE YOU ENOYED IT, MEANTWHILE I WILL WORK OF 14, AND 15,. HUGS


	14. Chapter 14

XIV

Rushing on to the cemetery, the ghouls: Rochelle, Scarah and Ghoulia, enter the Catacombs where they easily spot the cave in which Keith and Devon had just tried to summon Veritas into Toralei's body, by the intense light that emanates from inside.

The ghouls had seen some crazy weird shit before in their unlives, so when they saw that eerie golden light coming out of the cave, only to die quickly leaving behind the white light from the lantern, they naturally knew this was one of those moments when things just get super freaky!

The ghouls head carefully into the cave, a cloud of dust filled the air. Scarah and Ghoulia cough unable to breathe, Rochelle on the other hand, only feels a minor discomfort in her rocky nose and throat. A mere itch that needs no scratching. And if not for the unnatural light in the cave, they wouldn't be able to distinguish the outlines of Keith, Devon and Toralei, all three of them lying on the floor.

Dust still floating gently down through the air onto them.

Scarah and Ghoulia make their way through the cave, and land a hand to Devon and Keith so they can stand up.

"No touching! I don't need your help! I can stand on by myself," says Keith to Ghoulia, pulling out his arm, sounding curtly and rude as he naturally is.

It seems he has finally returned to his old, unsociable manners. Although in all fairness, that's indeed the way he treats anyone outside the SST and the ghouls (more specifically the few ghouls with whom he's interacted), thus, Ghoulia is really surprised that he treats her this way.

"Well, if you put it that way." She grumbles.

"Thanks," says Devon to Scarah, showing his gratitude and usual warmth in utter contrast with his cold friend.

The dust is finally clearing.

"You're welcome, ah… what's with that outfit?" She asks, turning her head around, surprised by Keith's nerdish look.

"Hey, just because I usually wear awesome-looking leather jackets, doesn't mean that's all there is in my closet!" He blurts loudly.

"What just happened?" Rochelle asks, helping Toralei to get back on her feet.

"Why don't you ask them?" She says, but there was something odd with her voice now. Not only she didn't sound curtly and nasal as usual, but it was just different.

She didn't mind this much, though, and infers she sounds different because of the dust in the air.

"What have the two of you done?" She inquires sternly at them.

The dust finally settles down, more than enough to see she was mad in a way they have never seen her before.

"Sweetie, this is not what it looks like," Keith answers promptly with his trademarked sarcastic tone.

This sound of arrogance and absolute lack of concern for just everything in his voice only infuriates her even more.

"Oh really," spoke Toralei, in a soft whisper a second before Rochelle gets to talk. "'Cause it seems like…" she pauses for a second, to stretch her arms, shaking the old rusty iron chains placed on her wrists, and for a second they seemed to burn with a golden light of their own — and in shock they all notice not only the chains flashed, but also a thin, golden gleaming rope seemed to have formed around Toralei's body, wrapping itself tightly around her arms and legs: a bind translucent, bright and ethereal — and then at the next second it had just vanished into thin air as soon as it had appeared, and the chains had once again their same plain old black, rusty color "you've bind me."

"I — I assume we are not talking to Toralei anymore," Devon asks, mustering as much confidence as he could.

"What does the voice and hair tell you?" She inquires.

Is just when she mentions the hair, that they noticed it was no longer orange, but blonde. And it was not just the simple yellow hair you see on the streets and magazines, this was golden, an unnaturally iridescent and bright golden hair.

It was the most beautiful and enthralling blonde hair they have ever seen, so perfect, as if each of her hairs were made of a thin thread of the purest gold.

With a closer look, they notice that her eyes are no longer green emerald, they are glowing gold too.

"No way…" Keith and Devon say in utter shock.

"I don't understand… did you dye your hair?" Scarah asks, still not grasping on to the situation.

"Yes, that's why my eyes are gold, and I'm bonded by the most despicable of spells," she retorts sarcastically with a soft and silky voice.

It was evident that Toralei was no longer herself, someone else dwells in her body.

"I… summoned Veritas…" Keith says in shock.

"Yes, you did, boy." She confirms.

"I… summoned Veritas," he repeats, still unable to believe what just happened. "I just summoned a goddess and forced her into a vessel!" He continues, taking his hands to his head, trying to control his breathing; excitement rises uncontrollably up his neck like a tidal wave filling into his hollow cheeks, heart beating faster and faster. "I can't believe this! I thought for sure it wasn't going to work," he goes on, a brief moment of honesty flashing from his mouth; he looks fevered, fully possessed by a gleefulness like he hasn't felt in years if not ever.

The ghouls look at him surprised that he would, or rather that he could show and feel this level of excitement and emotion; Scarah takes a better look at his face: there is a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it does not make him better looking; but instead, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost demented, borderlining psychotic. And yet, somehow, the sight of this fills her with something, some kind of feeling… despite being more awkward to look at than usual (and for a reason totally different) she couldn't say it was unappealing.

"Ok, ok, that's about enough," he says, controlling himself again, taking in three deep breaths.

Rapidly, his handsome face turns back to its normal deadpan — the same expressionless, bored and almost irritated face he has during classes.

"Are you calm now?" Veritas asks patiently.

"I think so. Yes." He says with no hint of emotion in his voice.

Scarah thinks of it as remarkable how easily he could go from fully excited to simply… nothing.

"Well, in that case… what do you want from me?" Veritas' soft voice sounds serious and cold now.

"The truth," answers firmly.

Veritas sneers.

"The truth… Do you even know… quid est veritas?"

"Est vir qui adest."

"Ha! Nice joke… But seriously, why was I summoned?"

"Eh, well, we…" he stops in the middle of this sentence when he catches a glimpse of Devon and the look on his face that says Don't you dare saying is we, when it was your idea. "I need your blood for an unconcealment spell to reveal a house hidden by a trickster, or his avatar. Not sure yet." He explains, and as he finishes his sentence, he couldn't help to sound a little nervous in front of Veritas' presence.

"And what makes you think it would work?"

"Well, you are pretty much the embodiment of truth, there is no way your essence won't reveal such secrets. Hell, I even feel more like an honest man by standing in front of you," he explains, sounding slightly more nervous.

"Ok, then why should I give you my blood?"

"Because we're your bosses now! And we command it to you…" he says with a sudden air of defiance filling his lunges, then adds, getting a peeved look from her, "uh, respectfully…" sounding nervous again, even a little frightened.

"And then what?"

"And then we let you go." Devon says.

"You know you can't lie or keep secrets from me, don't you?"

"We are not lying, if that is what you mean. We fully intend to release you… after we make sure our schoolmates as the one you are possessing, are safe."

"What if I refuse?" She asks, calmly, even bored, as if this were another boring day at the office, or a DMV.

Prayer number 63, please come to the box. Good morning, what is your problem today?

"Well, I got a very long needle, and I don't really need your permission to take your blood. As long as you're bonded, we'll be your bosses, and you'll have to do as we say, and you can't hurt us."

Now her expression, which for all this time has remained blank and unchanged, became a resentful glare. It was clear she was angry, and at the same time she feels impressed for them and how they had the guts to do this

Her lips curve into a smile as she sneers.

"Ok, I'll give you my blood, and I guess I'll protect your friend for as long as I'm trapped inside her. Not like I had much choice, anyway." She agrees without resentment.

"No, not really." Keith says, approaching her with a hypodermic needle in hand; not with a grin, and surely not with that I just won air the ghouls expected from him. Instead he looks tired and restless, well… more than the usual.

And they were all surprised she agreed so easily, for they didn't know this little secret: if the vessel dies, the god within dies too. Thus, it is of her best interest to keep Toralei alive until all this madness is over, this was his secret plan to keep at least one of the Slut ghouls safe all along, and it would have worked all too well, if not for the unexpected recent events that just happened and they would soon learn.

The only flaw in his otherwise perfect plan that relied merely on Toralei being unlucky, but just like he's got pockets within pockets, he also has schemes within schemes, and this would not be the end of it, neither it would deter him.

03:16 PM

SST Headquarters.

"How am I going to explain any of this to Bloodgood?" Asks a frantically freaked out Rochelle walking around the room. "I — I cannot even begin to understand what the HELL just happened down there. I mean — what was that?"

"I told you I'd summon a goddess of truth to reveal Unknown's hideout. I thought I gave a clear explanation." Keith says with utmost indifference and calmness. As if this were just routine for him.

All the while, Veritas sits calmly on a spinning chair, with the chains still on her wrists.

"I — Bloodgood is going to be here at any moment, how am I supposed to explain to her that Toralei is now the… the…" she pauses for a moment trying to remember the word.

"The vessel of Veritas." He finishes the sentence for her.

"Right, the vessel. Thank you." Rochelle goes on, spinning madly on her heels. "You know what? You'll explain it to her, because I have nothing to do with it."

"I am here because you needed my help, and I gave it to you! Without me, you wouldn't even know with whom we're dealing," he continues with the same indifference.

"That doesn't justify this!" She points madly at Veritas with both claws. "When you said you would summon a goddess I never thought you meant putting her inside Toralei! I didn't even think you could do it, and even then, the understanding was that you would summon her, not force… whatever her name is into one of our classmates without her permission."

"Please, you can call me Verity." She interrupts calmly, with an indifference that matches Keith's, as though they weren't talking about her.

"Sure thing… Verity." Rochelle calls her out coldly and glaring.

"Hey, there is no need to be mad at me. I'm the victim here, I'm the one who was forced from her palace into this awkward feline body and now am held against my will by this… whatever the hell he is." She retorts, gesturing at Keith.

"And you, how could you let him do that? I can't believe you really allowed this to happen," she turns on Devon. It was like a malediction, and yet the guys could not care less; while Keith simply doesn't mind her ranting, he was transfixed with Unknown's video of his killing in the Black Room and the way he had evolved. "I thought you were supposed to be responsible one!?" Rochelle goes on, fuming, pointing at him in dire accusation, he who remains silent, ignoring her ranting, now watching Nefera's video, which I remind you, is a live broadcast!

And for this time only, you can vote to decide whether she lives or dies! So go ahead, hurry up and don't waste any time! Go into your computer, and enter .com and vote! Vote! VOTE!

Don't use .org or .net, those are for losers.

Rochelle shouts out him name, calling him back to reality. Yet, Devon, despite her yelling and dire tone, would not notice her. Instead, he remains silent, frowning and arm folded, staring at the screen in such way it almost seemed as if he thought he could reach out to her by just watching and focusing on the video long enough — using his sheer willpower to get her out. And it really got her attention how his brown, almond-shaped eyes look so cold and detached, in a way she has never seen before in any living being, with no trace of their usual warmth to be seen — I daresay they even look soulless; they were almost as disturbing as the video, and it scares her; the simple glimpse of them kills the momentum of her anger cold.

Still oblivious to her, he changes to the news channel in which an FBI agent makes a bold statement concerning the video: …on, both human and RAD FBI's will form a joint forces unit to capture this terrorist. With that being said, anyone who watches and/or spreads this video, as well as those who enter this web site or spreads the link in anyway, will be automatically considered accessory of murder, and an enemy of the state. Those who enter this site, and even worse, give any vote thinking they got the right to decide the fate of this person, will face sentence for life, unlife or even dead penalty.

This was Special Agent Darkholme, direct from DC…

"Was that… your father?" Scarah sounds.

"Yes…" says in a soft, cold whisper that couldn't hide his exasperation and anger.

There was a brief moment of silence, that really awkward silence that makes you feel like leaving the room, pushed and willingly.

"Is he aware that you—"

"Never really told I am working this case." He cuts her off. "Does Ms. Bloodgood know about this?" Inquires with the same coldness.

"It's on every news channel, no way she doesn't." she replies, for a moment she forgets sounding mad and fierce. "She said she wanted to talk to you and she's not going to be glad with this stunt you guys pulled off," continues, sounding stern again.

"I thought so." Devon reckons. "I am sure this will end in—" and just in the middle of his sentence, an ominous groaning-like melody interrupts him, followed by a chorus that sings: O' death… oooh… O' death… My name is death and the end is near…

"Sorry, that's my phone. New ringtone. You like it?" Keith expresses with a faint smile, searching for his phone all over his body, checking his pants, then his vest, and then his pants again, searching into his butt pockets, which he reckons is stupid since he never puts his things in those pockets. He better than anyone, knows how easy it is that a wallet gets stolen from them.

"I think the sound comes from your purse." She grumbled.

"Is not a purse, it's a manpurse, in which I keep my manly man stuff!" He corrects Ghoulia.

Immediately he searches his phone in his manpurse in which he keeps his manly man stuff, and answers the call. He takes it with certain enthusiasm, saying things for which the ghouls couldn't place a context, except for one, the most confusing one being "You got the herbs now? Thank Goddess. I'll see you right now."

"What was that?" Scarah asks.

"My dealer. Says he's got the ingredient I need for my spell." Explains, picking up his stuff. "You coming?" He turns to Dev.

"Sure," he says, taking his jacket. "We better get this over with, and soon."

"Wait, you're leaving again? You can't just go like that, and leave us here to deal with Bloodgood!" Rochelle roars.

"Well, you're all welcome to tag along if you want," Keith replies.

"I admit I feel tempted to say yes," Scarah says partly excited. Rochelle growls at the girl. "I don't know about you, but at this point, I'm curious to see how this will end."

"What!? I cannot even — Ok let's pretend for a second this crazy plan works and he finds his house, what's next? Are… are you actually gonna try to arrest him, or are you calling the cops to tell them where to find him?"

"I'm a P.I. I cannot arrest, but the bright side is I do not need to warn before shooting, if I have to, of course."

"Don't worry, we talked about this, remember? We're gonna set him up, wrap him for present, and then unmask him in front of the police. All I need is something, something else and another thing." Keith announces.

This may be by far the most vague answer she has heard, she doesn't like vague; and much to Scarah's annoyance, she couldn't peep into their minds to know what their plan is.

…I'll always do whatever is necessary…

"At least tell me you're telling your father you know where he is. And what about her?" She points at Verity without even looking at her.

"Oh, she'll be fine. She's a goddess. Besides I painted some protection sigils around the office," reasons Keith as he pulls down the curtains.

With the room in near darkness, he takes out from one of his shoulder bags his limited edition Black Lantern lantern, which emitted a powerful and intense black light (and yes, I know what you're wondering, did these White and Black Lantern Batteries came as a set? Yes they did!), under which the sigils he painted in invisible ink all over the room when nobody was looking come to life, glowing with a violent violet color.

…Violent Violet. Sounds like the perfect name for a rock band, or a super heroine, don't you think?

"Hey dudes, check this out," he puts the lantern on his face making his teeth glow violet too. "It is a crime scene in my mouth! If you turn this in my room, it'd look like a Jackson Pollock paint."

"He's not lying," Verity says from behind.

"Explain this," the gargoyle orders.

"I placed these sigils when we thought Unknown would use one of the students as the next sacrifice. Assuming they work, he shouldn't be able to get inside the room without permission, in which case we could expand this protection all around the school. Of course, he used Nefera, so they're still untested, but if they do work, then in theory they should also keep pagans inside, thus, she can't leave the room. But then again, she's bonded to me and must obey when I say she stays here doing nothing."

"If only I could do that with you." Goyle remarks bitterly. "So the ghouls were just part of some kind of experiment?" She asks, with a mix of shock and disbelief.

"Kinda."

"You are a horrible person, do you have any moral code?"

"I learned at the age of ten that morality is relative." He retorts.

"Right… When did you get the time to do all this anyway?" Asks the angry gargoyle.

"I made most of them yesterday before bringing the ghouls up here, then I finished the rest in the morning while you two were sleeping. I reckon I was very tempted to paint an invisible dick on both your faces," admits with a faint smile.

"Wait, you telling me you painted a penis on my face?" She snarls.

"No… that would be disrespectful," Keith says, opening the door (what he really drew was a monocle, a stupid hipster mustache, and a devil's goatee all over her face. He also wrote three things on her body: I hate hipsters, I luv Dev with little hearts around it, and his signature Morningstar was here, using an actual nine-point star instead of his surname).

Logically, she couldn't see any of it, and the ghouls wouldn't say anything, really, partially because it was just too funny, but also because time was of the essence, so they just giggled a little.

"Now, I got a schedule to keep, so can we please get moving?" He opens the door.

"Moving where, Mr. Morningstar?" Questions Headmistress Bloodgood on the door.

The following events were just too boring and uninteresting to even bother narrating, so I'll just fastforward this, well, technically I can't fastforward this 'cause it is written, so I'll just sum it up, but you can visualize it as a speed up video: the SST goes to her office where they tell the principal everything that she doesn't know, omitting of course some parts that she really doesn't need to know such as what happened last night with Gory and the others, or that Toralei is now possessed by Verity. Naturally, now she has seen what Unknown is capable of, she was not very pleased with the idea of her students investigating him — even less now that both FBI's (Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Fearsome Body of Intelligence, currently deciding whether to change the Intelligence for Investigation or Inquiry, I know it sound made up, but is totally not, and is a good thing they didn't use Boo-reau) are on the case. But mostly, what he did in the Black Room was more than enough to prove her what a stupid idea this was. She knew this was dangerous since the beginning, but now — do you really think she'll keep this circus going on? Nah-ah. No way she would send or allows her students to walk towards a certain death, specially not the new normie students — that would just fuck up all the point of the exchange program! Hell!, she regretted hiring Devon the second he left the door, like what the Hell kind of Headmistress are you by telling your students to act like literal Student Police?! She couldn't sleep for weeks thinking what would happen if they die because of her.

What were they going to do anyway? P.I.'s can't arrest people, can they?

I'll tell you what her plans were, she would draw her good old family sword, and she would harvest his head, put it in a bag, and then shove on a stick in her room!

Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

Whatever the case, there is just no way any of it happens now, this man is just too dangerous to allow Devon and Rochelle going forward with this investigation.

Thus, she does what she should've done since the beginning, and orders the SST to shut down this operation and dismantle this Unknown Task force…

The guys did not take it well. Specially Dev.

Walking fast down to the parking lot, behind the rarely seen angry Devon, Keith poses one simple question "So… are you walking out of this?"

"No!" Says sharply.

"Oooh… Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes. We're going to get him, whether she likes it, or not." A red spark of undeterrence momentarily blazes in his eyes.

"Oooh! We're going dark, I love it when you play a bad boy. Is so sexy," he expresses. "Riding in the dark with a friend is so much better than riding alone. I'll get the ingredients, see you in the backwoods."

06:18 PM

After a quick trip to the Flea Sack, where Keith buys most of his magic herbs, and… everything he needs for his magic tricks and such, and of course a quick change of outfit, because this is a Monster High fanfic, come on! New characters means new clothes whenever we get the chance, just for the Hell of it (it should be the same for the ghouls, but they got too much in cannon), and in this occasion he's sporting a navy blue, furlined, hooded puffer jacket with black trousers and dark purple shoes and his always present yellow shield sunglasses which he rarely takes off.

He rides into the forest behind Monster High, where he easily spots Devon's silvery pick-up truck, a Ford in case you ask. He also had a change of outfit, dressed fully in black: black shirt, black pants, black shoes and a long jacket that looks like it costed a few thousand dollars.

"Did you get everything?"

"Yep." Says he, getting off his race bike with a shoulder bag stuffed with magical ingredients.

"Ok. I'll drive."

"Woa, hold on! Not leaving my baby out here alone," he says.

"Fine, put it on the truck." Devon hisses exasperated.

Getting the bike on the pick-up would turn out to be the easiest part of the night.

They drive in the Slim Shady Oaks area, seemingly aimlessly for almost an hour until Keith tells him to stop in a clearing that, in fact, seems large enough to build a house. A house that should be invisible if placed under a concealment spell.

A quick glimpse at the sky tells them the twilight is near.

As soon as they get out of the truck, Keith begins to touch the air as if looking for a wall in a pitch dark room; of course, the house is untouchable as well as invisible, but he has his own ways. In a few seconds he stops, grinning, thinking I gotcha.

Quickly he pulls out of his shoulder bag all he needs to cast the unconcealment spell and begins with the complicated preparations; Devon walks around him and all around the clearing, vigilantly, holding the heavy automatic pistol he got from his father's office (Colt Government Model .45) with both hands, pulling back the tight hammer with his right thumb. He cautiously checks the premises. There was no one in the clearing in any direction, but still he wouldn't put the gun back into the holster, au contraire, he holds the gun tighter as he stands by his friend who was most exposed and vulnerable while kneed on the ground. Luckily Keith is nothing but a quick worker, and is already half the way through with the spell, placing a gold goblet on a shroud with an odd symbol, which includes a wide nonagram, painted in red; without former ado he begins to smash the herbs he just bought. From one of the many inner pockets in his puffed jacket, he pulls out a long thin bottle, which contains Verity's blood. The substance wasn't red, though, but instead it was the color of molten gold, shining — glowing actually, wild and brightly with a light of its own, fully illuminating his face, as a golden glow-stick from a Hufflepuff House party.

Without hesitation, he pours the thick blood into the goblet, not a single drop of blood got wasted, then the strange herbs begin to melt as they come in contact with the blood; silvery blue steam rises from the surface. With his silver dagger, he mixes the ingredients, murmuring an incantation in a chant-like manner (it really sounds almost like a song), his voice was so low only a werewolf like Clawdeen could hear him, but even then, she couldn't possibly be able to understand what he says for it was Latin.

And now the final piece, the blood of the caster.

Since Devon has already used his, it was only logical and fair he would use his own this time. And just as Dev did, Keith cuts his palm (his left hand to be precise) with his kris dagger, mixing his dark red blood with the golden glowing blood, and the moment both substances make contact, such opposites forced together, pure and divine mixed with unholy and mundane, the potion begins to froth and smoke, then, all at once, it bursts out a large dark red flame with, savage golden and scarlet sparks swirling around it. Then as sudden as the flame came to life, it dies, leaving behind a clear, bright gold cloud of steam that lifts above their heads; Keith stands up staring at it mesmerized as it sifts serenely upon them, steady and purposeless.

Slowly, he sheathes his dagger and puts it back inside his jacket, then raises his wounded, still bleeding hand and commands in a mystical tone "In the name of The Dawning One, reveal to me the secrets that hide before me."

A soft breeze blows from behind them pushing the golden steam forward, and as if it had a mind of its own, it begins to swirl around the clearing in all directions, splitting into a dozen thin threads of golden steam arcing high over them — crisscrossing all around that empty spot in which, Keith knows for sure, should be a house, taking the form of a dome cage. Then the dome begins to twirl as it grew thicker, morphing into a tornado of pure golden smoke.

Suddenly the smoke fades away in a puff, revealing the concealed two store house in which Richard "Dick" Wayne, also known as Unknown, held as prisoner Deuce Gorgon in order to rip his eyes with a spoon as the later saw everything through the mirror on the ceiling, composed the song that killed D.J. Holt, gelling out his not-so-used brain, and currently holds Nefera, who is soon to be his third victim and sacrifice as part of his ritual. I would say innocent victim, but not even a trickster can tell such a lie.

"No freaking way…" says a soft and sweet voice in a gasp, shock mixed with amazement.

Fearing they got caught by Dick, they turn their heads in a state of alert, looking at the threes behind which the ghouls hide.

"What the Hell are you doing here?!" Roars Keith. His right hand already grasping tightly the hilt of his lucky combat knife which he hides inside his boots all the time, even at school; Devon's thumb already cocking the hammer of his gun, his finger almost ready to pull the trigger.

If not for all the concentration needed for the spell, he would have realized sooner they're not alone, Clawdeen, Rochelle, Draculaura, Scarah and Frankie were with them. Not even Devon noticed them when they arrived after his first and only check of the premises, he was too focused on what Keith was doing. It was indeed, the first time in years, that somebody gets the jump on them like this. What's wrong with you guys? You're better than this!

Oh, give them a break! They're teens, they're already going through a lot of shit: school work, secretly capturing a serial killer with magic, and doing it without help. Have you ever tried to juggle that many balls? Sooner or later you would drop or almost drop one, specially if you're human.

"Oh… hi," Frankie says awkwardly and frightened, with a nervous smile, her miss-matching eyes fixed on their weapons.

"Please don't stab us, it's just us, your lovely classmates!" Draculaura says in her squeaky voice.

"Ah, could you… put the gun and the knife away?" Frankie pleads.

"No," answers Keith… sharply.

"What are you girls doing here?" Dev inquires as all the ghouls come out of the threes.

"Ah, well… I kinda overheard you at school earlier by accident," Clawdeen begins, "we were there to see Operetta, and well, I wasn't sure what you were talking about until Rochelle told us what happened, so we got Ghoulia tracking your phones and… we thought you could use some help."

"Well, is more like we were sent to help you… going back to school… Orders from Bloodgood," Lala adds.

Devon frowns, giving a stern look at Rochelle, as if this were her fault.

Coldly, he asks "What exactly did you do?"

"I didn't do anything…" Goyle replies. "Except maybe telling the Headmistress that you were still going after him and then calling the police to give them an anonymous tip." She shrugs.

"That's when she told us we had go after you," Clawdeen retorts.

The guys remain silent for a few moments.

Frustrated, Keith asks "Why would you go and do that? Are you nuts?"

"What? We? You're the ones who came alone to the house of a serial killer." She reasons. "How can you even think of doing such thing?"

"You just ruined everything we worked for, everything I worked for!" Keith expresses in a low shouting.

"So this is about getting the credit for his capture?" Rochelle asks.

"It is for me!" Keith reckons.

"Of course it is. Don't worry, they wouldn't believe me anyway," Rochelle announces. "Those idiots."

"They probably thought it was a phony and didn't want to look incompetent for following a fake lead. Whatever the case, you're coming with us," Clawdeen says, unaware of how right she is, for more than once Richard called the police giving them this exact location in which they'd find only threes, never imagining he was standing in his front door laughing at them, protected by a most powerful concealment spell.

"No, we are not. We are ending this tonight, and you will not get in our way!" Devon states firmly.

Rochelle was impressed by this answer. It is evident by the tone of his voice he's being deadly serious about it! Devon always seemed the most wise and rational of the two, but this was unlike the Devon she knew. But then again, did she ever get to truly know him?

Sure, they have become close by all the work they've done, and got the chance to bond even more into buddies last night, talking over movies, music and simply being normal teenagers, but she never really got the chance to know what lurks inside his mind, let alone discuss what were they supposed to do once they get Richard, …and he's got all this secrets he hides, and they feel like the kind of secret he'd kill you if he tells you about… could it be possible that all this time he was planning on — no! He couldn't do that, he wouldn't! But then again, he's carrying a gun. Of course, Unknown is armed too, so it only makes sense he brings one too in case he needs it, but was he really expecting to use it?

…I'm a P.I. I cannot arrest, but the bright side is I do not need to warn before shooting, if I have to, of course…

"You can't do that," the gargoyle states with the same firmness, "how are you even going to—"

"I am going into that house, and I do not care if you like the idea, or not!" He declares, and this time there was a powerful determination blazing in his eyes like she has never seen before, for a second she even thinks to have seen a red gleam in them — no, surely it's just an effect of the light, the crimson light of the twilight reflected on his eyes.

Oblivious to it, the sundown has started and the sky burns red above their heads.

That aside, she couldn't help to feel admiration for him and the way he dares to stand before that man, and even, she would admit to herself, more attracted to him.

"I—" she pauses for a moment, then says "if this is really how you want it to end, then let me help you."

"No way, it is too dangerous for you."

"Why? Because I'm a ghoul?"

"I don't know, does he like to kill monsters?" Keith points out, getting a glare from Clawdeen and Rochelle. "Look, I'm not saying we're safe from getting shot for being humans, but he is more likely to shoot you first. He wants to use one of you as final sacrifice, and I don't reckon it wise to let you ghouls into that house."

"Well, you are not getting into that house without backup." Rochelle insists. "Besides, I'm made of stone. I can take whatever he has."

There's a brief silence. "You fell for a tough one. …Now I see why you like her," Keith throws a grin, patting Devon's shoulder.

"Am with her," Clawdeen declares, stepping next to her. "Listen, we're not leaving without you. Now, we can either leave now, call the police again and tell them were to find this house (which to me is the best and most reasonable option), or we can leave after we have rescued Nefera and put an end to that man ourselves," expresses with the fierce determination of a werewolf.

"I wanna help too. I owe it to D.J. and Holt. Besides… we got powers that could help." Frankie remarks, small green bolts of lightning crackle from her neck screws, green electricity pulsing, arcing up between her fingertips.

"So did the many monsters he has slaughtered with a single hand, but that wasn't a problem. Yet, it seem I am not talking you out of this any more than you are talking us out, am I right?" Devon says.

"Yep, you're right," all the ghouls agree.

"Actually I do like the idea of calling the cops again," declares Lala. "Sounds the most reasonable thing to do… but we all know cops in this town, both sides, are deeply stupid."

"Ha! Don't I know that." Keith laughs.

"And let's be real for a second, when have we taken the rational option?" Lala points out.

"Fine," Dev agrees, reluctantly. "Good thing I brought some extra vests," remarks as he picks up the box full of bulletproof vests he got from his father's office.

"Put these on, quickly," he orders opening the box.

"I still don't understand why did you come here?" Keith asks Clawdeen in a low voice as Devon hands the ghouls their vests.

"For the same reason you came to my place last night, to make sure you'll be ok. I guess you can say I owe it to you."

"That was different, and you don't owe me anything."

"How come?"

They were talking almost in whispers.

"We didn't know if he could actually show up in your house. It was only probable, but unlikely that he would target you… that soon anyway."

"You almost make it sound like it was just an excuse to see me even with a Biblical storm raging out there."

"Maybe you're losing the point here, this is his home. If there is a place he'd be, is here," explains he, looking around the place.

So far, as it would appear, luck is on their side for there's no trace of Dick.

"Hey, the way I see it, one of my friends is about to do something really stupid and dangerous, the best and only thing I can do is make sure he'll be fine while doing it."

"You always put up your neck like this for your friends, don't you?" Inquires after mulling for a few seconds.

"Yes… no matter what the circumstances are, I'll always be there for my friends. And that includes you now." Clawdeen states with that same determination from before. "Are you not doing the same for Devon right now?"

"I guess I always do," says looking at his old friend tightening the best on Draculaura.

"Not arguing fashion sense… but don't you got these on a smaller size?" She asks.

"No," sates trying to fit the vest around her petite body the best he could. "Maybe you should think of growing up a little."

Frankie giggles at his remark.

Keith leans close against Clawdeen, their faces at mere inches away, his lips curve into a smile, not one of his usually creepy smiles, but a really… normal, even happy-looking smile.

"You really are a great ghoul, thanks for saying we're friends."

Clawdeen looks down with a coy smile, her beautiful wavy hair hiding her blushed face. She would later notice that was a very odd thing to say from him.

"You don't need to thank me." The wolf girl says.

"Sorry guys, looks like one of you will not get a vest." says Devon; only Clawdeen and Keith were left.

"You take it," Keith says handing her the vest with his wounded hand. "I don't need it."

"Are you sure?" She asks.

"Don't worry baby, I'll let you know a little secret: I'm bulletproof." He winks his right eye. "Besides, you're the one with parents who'd mourn you if you died."

"Right…" says pensively, putting on the vest.

Devon orders Scarah to stablish a psychich link with on them as he begins to explain the plan: they would split into three with Rochelle and Lala flying up to the attic where they would sneak in, Scarah and Keith get in through the back door, and Frankie, Clawdeen and him would get in through the front door. As she hears this plan, a not-so-small part of Clawdeen begins to have second thoughts about this whole idea, but quickly she pushes those thoughts aside before they fully form in her head. She is angry — she wants vengeance for her friends and most important, she wants to protect those she still has left.

"All right, you ghouls are dressed to impress." Keith says. "So… andale!"


	15. Chapter 15

XV

07.13 P.M.

Carefully, Devon approaches the front door, with the ghouls behind him, holding his gun firmly, cocking the hammer, ready to shoot at Unknown when he shows his masked face, even if it doesn't work for much, while Keith takes Scarah behind the house, ready to use his lock-picking skills to open the door… which was actually open, so he didn't really have the need — I assume if your house is already invisible and untouchable, concealed by charms, you don't have a reason to lock the doors, and hopefully he feels the same about boobie traps — and as they cautiously walk into the house of, arguably the most dangerous man they would ever face, Rochelle and Draculaura fly up to the roof as silently as they can, which is easy to do for the pettite vampire girl, she can turn into a little bat, so there isn't much noise she can make, but for the gargoyle it was a rather difficult task, luckily she manages to land without making any alarming sound. Naturally, Scarah suggested to psychically scan the house to make sure whether he is inside the house or out hunting his next victim and to locate Nefera, but Keith conviced her it was a bad idea, reasoning that if he was in his house, then he could probably feel her psychic probing, alerting him of their pressence, assuming he isn't already aware of it, but it would have been more useful than Draculaura's idea of flying around the house and looking through every window, since every damn one of them is painted black.

…

It is disturbingly silent inside the house…

So how does this work? Do you think first? Do I think first? Clawdeen's voice sounds as a distant echo inside their heads, growing clearer every second. She was curious to know how and if this psychic link works.

Wow! Clawdeen, was that you? Lala asks in the mindscape, sounding amazed; as always she is so easily impressed; flying through the dusty and unkempt attic window which is also painted black.

I guess everyone is linked, Devon thinks, getting an affirmative answer from all the ghouls. Great. Good job with the link, Scarah.

Thanks. Even her own inner voice sounds shy, but he could tell she is glad somebody would finally recognize her talent. After all, being a telepath is a really hard job, but it was just recently that she began to see the full extent of her capacity, that she has become a really good telepath, getting more confident on her abilities every day thanks to this… experience with the SST. This adventure if you will.

A hoarse and ironical voice sounds. Remember the plan is simple, dulled down for you: we get in , if we're lucky he would be out doing grosseries, we get Nefera, set up the bomb, and we leave. In and out, piece of cake, Keith thinks through the psychic link, so if you all follow through, we might get out of here alive, whatever alive is for you ghouls.

And what if he is in here? Scarah asks.

You saw the video, you take a guess. Devon replies. We came in armed, hoping we will not have to used them, but knowing it would be useless.

Then why woul ya come here? Clawdeen asks.

Because we had to finish this. Unmask the man in front of the cops and cameras saying his name for the world to know who is Unknown, See the man behind bars. Keith he is exaggerating, I brought a few spell bags just in case. But just so you know, if I don't make it out of this one, I'm suing all your asses. I will literally get the best devil lawyer and sue all of you. And you'll know he is the best because he will be wearing red sunglasses. I don't care if he doesn't like them. I will force him to wear red shades.

My, he really is a charm. I wonder why he can't make firends at school? Lala remarks.

Speaking of shades… So on the bright side, the theory I had where he keeps his house dark as Hell to get in and out whenever he wants by turning into a boogieman might be right, either that or he loves Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones a little too much. Either way, I'm right, but am gonna go with is the first one. Keith points out. Hey, do you think if that song starts playing as a loop in my head like they always do, driving you insane because you can't get them out, you would also hear it playing in your heads like a soundtrack in a movie or somrthing? No? Maybe? You know I'm gonna try that anyway, just gotta access my mind's playlist and start thinking about it, but it might take a while, my brain often buffers when I'm under medication. Only way I can be around other is by sacrificing my intellect… if that means anything, is that everyone is—

My goth! Your voice is even more obnoxius in my mind than it is in my ears, please get him out! Rochelle beseeches as she gets through the old window as silently as she can.

Now, no need to get belligerent with me, I know intellects like mine can be intimedating for the regular intellects like yours—

Oh, really? Rochelle uses her best sarcastic mental voice.

Keith goes on ignoring her, specially when we are two — I'm talking about Devi, believe it or not, he has both: the looks and the brains — but right now is not the time to turn at each other, Chaos and mischief is what tricksters eat for lunch and dinner.

You're right, you know what would be the best way to avoid that? If you stopped thinking.

Hahaha, yeah… sorry, but that ain't gonna happen. My brain is tweelve/seven. And I mean tweelve only because I sleep through the other tweelve hours.

Exasperated, Rochelle sighs deeply, with her mouth and her mind.

Is this how things ususally are with these two? Clawdeen inquires.

Yes. Scarah answers.

No. There ususally is more aggression between them. Devon is awfully easy, Devon thinks to himself as they venture into the living room, and if there is one thing he knows about Unknown by now, is that nothing is ever easy with him — BANG! BANG! — THE UNMISTAKABLE SOUND OF A GUN BEING FIRED — a shockwave of fear ripples through the link!

What was that? Is anyone—? Lala's thoughts become erratic.

Oh my God, Devon! Rochelle's fear reverberates in their mind. But she wasn't the only one.

"Devi! DEVON!" Keith yells and by the first time ever since the ghouls met him, they hear real fear in his voice.

A scream of shear fear like they have never heard.

Acting upon instinct instead of cold reason, he runs towards the source of the sound with a knife in his hand, running into the living room, despite Scarah's best efforts to stop him.

Her small body is not strong enough to hold him.

A thud echoes in the walls followed by two screams that are cut off abruptly, replaced by the sound of broken glass, then the sound of more gunshots.

Triangulating the origin of the sound, he moves through the dark halls, finding theliving room, where he is surprised to see Devon, injuried with only a wound on his left shoulder, but alive, with his foot on Unknown's neck.

"What took you so long?" He asks, pressing the wound on his arm, pointing at Dick with the gun.

"You shot him down? How?'"

"I don't know, I'm guessing training kicked in," he replies as Scarah walks in. "He got a hand on me, though. Shouldn't let my guard down."

"Oh my Soul, you did it?!" She sounds impressed.

"Yeah… I did. Not before he knocked them out, though." Devon points at the ghouls. "Bastard couldn't be more silent."

"He couldn't, right?" Keith asks, rising his nife, pointing at Devon with the blade as though a wizard threatening with his wand at an enemy, only the wand wasn't a wand, but a KGB Ballistic Knife: a type of knife used by the Spetsnaz, Russian special forces during the Cold War, with a blade that can be detached and ejected up to six feet away by the press of the button on the handle, using compressed air, moving so fast that Devon doesn't realize when it hits him in the neck.

Devon lets out a painful shriek, he is surprised by this. "Why did you do that?! …I'm your friend."

"Are you?"

Scarah is shocked, why would he attack his best friend? Wasn't he the one who screamed when the possibility of Devon being death flashed his mind? So why would he try to kill him?

"You would kill me… Why?" He asks, losing blood faster and faster every second.

"You know." Keith says as the body falls onto the ground,.

"What have you done?!" Scarah yells.

"The link, sweetie," his voice sounds calm and languid.

Is only there when she realizes that Devon, as well as the two ghouls with him, Frankie and Clawdeen, went radio silent in the psychic link after the gunshots. But what — Wait! You meanhat is not Dev?!

At last she realizes, Keith says as the body fades into a thin purple mist. Only the blade in the neck remains on the floor.

"So… what gave me away?" Unknown asks as he walkls into the living room, standing in front of them.

Fear pulsing between them, with a particular ring of hatred coming from Keith.

"You overacted… oh, and he rarely uses contractions. It is not proper of a leader, it doesn't give off authority… or so he says."

Scarah is impressed by how well Keith knows Devon and how easily he saw thorugh this pseudo-trickster's lie. Honestly, in all this time she hasn't realized that Devon rarely uses contractions.

"Well, I guess there is no need to keep him liike this, eh?" Dick snaps his fingers, and the body they thought was Unknown's chages and becomes Devon. Keith scowls at Dick who puts his foot on his best friend's neck. "Oh, come on! Don't give me that look, he isn't dead… ish. Not yet anyway. Of course I could have killed all of them, but that would be such a waste. Specially him, I mean look at him, so handsome," says tapping at his face with his boot.

Anger rises in Keith, his face reflects it. This is the second time in which she didn't have to guess what he feels for she could see it clearly in his otherwise not-so-expresive face.

Quickly he reaches into his pocket, but Unknown stops him before he could get anything to hurt him.

"Uh-uh-uh… you wouldn't like me to kill him, would you?"

Keith doesn't reply. His eyes stare at Unknown, daringly, angrily, Scarah doesn't need any special power to know he wants to kill him.

"Of course, I personally don't like killing humans… I don't like killing people at all, really. but you broke into my house, I am fully entitled to kill intrudents… I think is still legal, right?" He speaks softly.

Keith glares at him with even more hatred boiling inside him, even though she tried not to, Scarah could feel it as a knot in her stomach.

"Ok, you need to calm down, take a sit." He waves his hand.

Suddenly, their bodies tighten, paralyze, as if each of their muscles is being held by an iron hand. They are no longer in control of themselves.

Angry Keith tries to jump at him, strike out, but his body won't respond. Yet, he could still feel how his body is pulled down onto an old metal chair which is pulled at them as well.

"Now, lets take a look at what we got here," he says as he moves closer to them, squinting behind his mask, analyzing them, as if they were a puzzle, and in fact they puzzle him: a werewolf, a simulacrum, a banshee and two humans, all teenagers and all in their house ready to kill him.

He always knew there is a possibility that, even as thin as it is, someone would find him, but kids? Things really have changed from the days he was a student at high school. And it brings a feeling that could be confused with nostalgia for his days of youth, but it was something else, something he could not identify, but he quickly forgets about it. Whatever fleeting feeling it was, it has no meaning.

Now there is only one thing he cares about, and that is knowing the identity of these intruders, although he already has an idea of who they might be.

"What… what are you going to do?" Scarah asks, doing her best to avoid stammering, showing bravado that she doesn't have, surprised to discover that her mouth and lips work.

DIck's head turns to look at her.

Halting an arm's length away, he studies her green face from behind his mask, sinking into every detail, drinking them, as if he tried to memorize her face. Then at last he finally speaks, "Now, there is no need to fear me. I have no real reason to kill any of you, or to hurt you. You wouldn't be good sacrifices."

"Hey, I would be a great sacrifice. Whatever god you're praying should beg me to be an offer." Keith says with defiance and honestly offended.

"Well, isn't he a particular bloke? But there is some fire in you, I like your spunk," he says, trying to sound kind, friendly even. "Now, why would you break into my house? Is clear you know who I am. Are you here to kill me?"

"Why wouldn't I kill you?! You muredered my friends!" She replies defiantly.

"I would say otherwise. After all, is not like you were tight with them, weren't you?" As he speaks, he walks slowly around their paralyzed bodies. Frightened, unable to turn her head, she tries to follow him with her blank eyes, and here is when she is gladder than ever to have white eyes with no pupils, because that way he could not see that she is also tracing his movements, or so she thinks. "So afraid. Fake bravado won't work with me, I can always tell," he murmurs, tilting his head. "Lies are kinda my thing."

Having circled them, he moved even closer to Keith, peering into his face, his eyes. "Yet, I can sense you're hiding something." He sounds mystified. "There is something about you… Who are you, boy? Are you the one who uncovered my house? Don't lie, I can see it was you. It would take some serious magic to do it, so tell me," he says holding his face with his clawless hand, "how did you do it? Come on, I'm curious."

"You eat a dick, Dick."

"Come on, kid. I mean I could tortutre you to talk…" he sounds with a sadistic ring in his voice. Keith flinches once, then straightens himself again, showing courage before a man who could take his life at any second. Whether this was real or not, he doesn't care. "I could inflict a perfect, delicious pain like you can't even imagine. But am so not in the mood for that now." He chuckles, trying to sound friendly again.

Don't listen, Devon says in their heads. And for a second, a glimmer shines in his eyes as he looks at his friend moving.

Turning his head, Dick sees that Devon is getting up again, reaching for his gun.

"Boy, you are tough. Good, weak won't get you anywhere with me," he says before snapping his fingers, then the dark room iluminates, and Devon finds himself sitting on the floor, his legs tied and his hands cuffed, when just a second ago he wasn't.

And not just him, but the ghouls and Keith are suddenly tied. "What the…?"

"Since most of you are up… I think we can finally have some real talk, so… Help me understand something boys. I mean, stomping through my front door is… a tad suicidal, don't you think?" Dick says, walking slow and calmly between this motley crew. "And then this one sneaks into my kitchen and eats my cronuts, I mean that is just — who does that?"

"Wait, you… stole his food?" Scarah asks surprised by this.

Keith nods. "I just saw it there, it had honey on the side, I couldnt keep my hands in my pockets."

"Wow… you're unbelievable." She sighs. "When did you do that? I was there the whole time."

"I'm really good with my hands. They don't call me half-minute Kieth for nothing."

"My, seems the onlt rime you really don't think is before you speak."

"I gotta give you credit, though. You all got to the living room, alive, most cops don't get that far into a house with a guilty suspect without getting shot."

"Whatever…" Keith tries to free his hands from the handcuffs, something he is used to do. "I bet you bought these cuffs at a sex shop." He exclaims, noting his hands can move as well.

"I got a thight budget, kid!" Dick snarls at Keith. "Thight as those cuffs you're trying to get rid of."

Keith ignores him.

Normally, he would free himself from ropes and handcuffs in only minutes, seconds even, all he has to do is tensing up his muscles and holding his breath after taking a big one while being tied to make himself slightly bigger, then he would relax, breath out and the ropes would get loose, same with the cuffs when fastened around his wrists, he would tense up his arms and then relax so he could slip his hands from the cuffs. Just like his magical hero, Harry Houdini.

But these ropes and handcuff have been conjured on him from thin air, and whereas he is really tensed up right now, he isn't really sure he could relax or that it would work at all, since he wasn't tensing the right muscles, yet, he is not of the kind who lets go of things so easily.

"Now most important, who are you? Is evident that you are not cops. Too young. No cop would ever think of resourcing to magic to capture a serial killer. They are so close-minded and stupid, so, so stupid. Can't even carry on a stupid Trick or Treat sentence well, let alone would be able to counter my spells. Yet, you came armed with guns blazing and vests. My only guess, and I am sure is the right one, is that you are the PI I read about in the Gory Gazette, before it got taken off the site."

"That is it. I am going to kill Spectra." Devon states angrily.

"But it said it was only one PI, not two." Dick sound slightly confused, but quicly dismissess any concern. "Nah, who needs her anyway. And really, who cares? As you can see, you're not a threat. But I must admit I am impressed with how far you've come."

"Thanks." Both normie teens say at the same time.

"Now, which one of you is the brain? Is it pretty boy over here?" He points at Devon with his silver claw. "Am sure is the pretty one. No, you can't lie to me, I can see it in your eyes, you are the one behind all this." Declares with a calm tone, leaning forward him.

"What if I am?" He asks with defiance.

"Then you and I are having a nice, long chat…" Unknown says, taking him by the head with both hands, then dragging him on the floor from the neck of his shirt, barely giving him the chance to get on his feet.

This is bad, Keith thinks as they disappear through the door, desperatly rubbing his left hand, realizing he could move all his body again.

Oh no. What do you think he'll do to him? Scarah asks

The question is what won't he do to him!

We shouldn't have come here, none of us should have. She regrets.

Then why did you all come?

Because—

Y'know what? Honestly I don't care. He cuts her off. You're here, and that is how it is. Let's just hope that you're not here as an ill omen for all of us.

Okay, that was a little hurtful. I thought we were clear that I'm not—

How much do you know about biology? He interrupts her again. Do you know what pain receptors are?

Huh, yes. I do. They're what make us feel pain. by sending electric signals to our brain.

That is a really blunt way to put it butis exactly what it is. Now, I need you to focus on me.

Why?

Because I need you to use your telepathy to block my pain receptors. He asks her.

Come again?

You heard my thoughts. I need you to shut down specific parts of my nervous system to block my capacity to feel any pain whatsoever, Keith explains.

What? Why? What do you—? Oh Janey Mack.

Janey mack? I never got that, you know? What's that supposed to mean? Keith wonders.

That's — are you sure that's gonna do the trick? She questiions, seeing what he has in mind.

I, sadly, had a similar experience with cuffs I couldn't get off, don't ask for details, and I know that it works.

Ok, but even then, I not really sure I can do what you're asking me. That is something that is beyond my capacity, only Omega level telepaths can do that. I mean, establishing psychic links and navagating the mindscape with passengers, that's one thing, but controlling the body like that. I'm just not that… I'm not good enough for something like that. Scarah confesses with the greatest sadness in her heart.

And before this dire realization, she feels like the useless rockie telepath she was two years ago, who could barely control her powers.

Come on Scarah, you got this. Lala's voice sounds in her head.

What? You were listening this whole time? She asks, for this she's is in surprise.

Well, this is a psychic link. Is basically chat room in our heads, right? Is not just two way. Rochelle reminds her.

Right, I just didn't think you'd have your ears on.

LIsten to me, you can do this, okay? I've worked with you this whole time and I've seen you do things — amazing things that you probably didn't think you could in a hundred years, that were beyond your level, but you did them anyway. This should be easy for you. Rochelle says, as she floats her way downstairs with Draculaura, ready to rescue Devon.

That's it? That's your big inspirational speech for her? Keith asks dissappointed, for he expected something a little more dramatic and emotional. Well, I guess it could have been worse, something more sappy, like a Care Bear dialogue.

Oh, shut up! Is working! Scarah know what? You're right, I got this.

Also, you pretty much don't have any other choice but to do what I'm asking you. In case you've forgotten dearie, our favorite pretty boy is literally at the hands of a serial killer. Keith reminds her. Not that I want to add any preasure of course. Wouldn't like Rochelle to spend the rest of her last school year single, would you?

What… does he mean with that? Draculaura asks.

How should I know? His brain doesn't work the way regular brains work.

You're right, now chop-chop. You only got one work to do now, and you can't mess it up.

Wait, how do I know when is working?

I'll press the wound in my hand untill you block the pain. Ready? He asks, pressing his wounded hand.

He is right in one thing: she has to do this, there is no other option for her.

Luckily, tracking the path by which the pain travels was something a lot less complicated with actual pain running through, and it was fascinating to see how the brain works with her third eye, but she could also see in his face that he is not enjoing the pain. Hitherto, she uses all of her brain power to block out his brain from any pain, a feat that she has only read about in text books at telepathy camps, but that she never thought she would be able to do, or that she would ever need to do.

And yet, here she is, tied to a chair, doing her best to block the pain from Keith, all so he can snap his thumb and break free of those damn cuffs that restrain him.

Taking a deep breath… he prepares himself mentally to carry on such painfully — wait! No longer painfull, but stilll very nasty thing he is about to do to himself… surmounting all his strenght and willpower…

SNAP!

His right thumb is broken. And he is so-ever grateful to see that Scarah could shut down his pain receptors as he expected. Now all he needs is to slip his broken hand out of these bloody handcuffs, the blood from his wound should help and — ALAS! His hands are now free. Now comes the funny part, trying to relocate his thumb, and even without pain, he can still feel how his bones move against the flesh. It is nasty, but his hands are free, which means reaching for the knife hidden in his wrist is now much easier and cutting those damn ties is no problem for him.

"Good. You did it!" Scarah whispers. "Now get me outta these soon before he comes back."

"Sure." Quickly, he begins to look for his lock picking kit in his jacket. "I knew I would use these."

Moving as fast as he can, he begins to pry open her handcuffs and then proceeds to cut the ropes and duck tape on her.

Rochelle, Draculaura, you still listening? She calls them out in the psychic link, but gets no response.

"Damn it, I think I migh've dropped the link. It took all my power to block your pain—"

"Well, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and get them online again." He orders, as he picks up Devon's gun and his blade.

Scarah uses her powers once more to reach out to her friends while Keith moves on to cutting Clawdeen and Frankie's ropes, but she can't make any conection with Devon, Lala or Rochelle.

"I — I think something is wrong," she whispers, walking behind him. "I can't reach them. Is as if they were gone or—"

"Don't think that." Says sharply. "Come here, help me get them on this couch. You get the head, I get the legs." Keith says, grabbing Clawdeen's ankles; doing so with a broken thumb in one hand and a slash on the other is not very easy, and he is slowly getting back his sense of pain. That doesn't help at all.

On the count of three they throw Clawdeen's unconscious body on the couch, then proceed to do the same with Frankie.

"Okay, what now?" Asks Scarah.

"You try to connect again with the crew, I think of a new plan. Improvicing is kinda my thing."

"Okay."

This idea doesn't quite convice her, but truthfully, she doesn't have a better plan. Thus, she sits as though to meditate, in the classic lotus position, and concentrates all her mind power to reach her friends inside the house.

Lie. She does have one idea: calling for help. Contactig someone like Ghoulia or Bloogod, someone who can bring the cops here, but the truth is that she doesn't want to bring anyone else to this trap. How many more have to die by his hand? Besides, what can the police do against the avatar of Pagan? At least Keith and Devon know what are they up against, and seem to be prepared for his magic tricks. Maybe she should give them a chance to solve this problem, and then calling somebody, anybody for help if things get any worse and…

"How are you waking them up?"

"With this," says pulling out his flask from his jacket, a flask containing no other drink but vodka. "My parent's solution for anything. It doesn't really fix everything, though. Only made them forget about their problems: forget they had to work, that they lived with somebody they hate, that they had a child with special needs they can't attend."

That… is quite an insight into your life, she thinks.

Waving the open flask in Clawdeen's nose, should be enough for the smell to hit her like an anvil. And indeed, her highly sensitive olfaction is shocked by the smell of vodka, enough to wake her up, and the first thing she feels is a sharp pain in her head.

Naturally, she checks her head, only is not for blood, but to make sure her hair isn't ruined, which surprisingly isn't. "What the hell happened?" Asks as she begins to remember the events prior to getting knocked out, then realizing that Frankie is resting on her.

"What do you remember?" He asks.

Carefully she gets off the couch, getting on her feet.

Good thing she left the heels today.

"I remember we entered the house," she begins to remember, images of what happened minutes ago flashing in her head as the lightnings from the other night's storm. Then the image of a green lightning flashing in her eyes. "And — I think Frankie saw him first, she tried to electrocute him but it didn't work, then he knocked us out. Or so I assume by the pain in my head."

"Well, I'd say you got lucky," he says, followed by a thud.

"Do you think he got the others?" Scarah asks.

"I hope not," he answers. "We better get hurry. Let's try to wake her up." Keith tells Clawdeen.

"Sure — oh my God, what happaned to your hands?" She asks the second she sees the blood in his hands.

"Nothing serious, I had to break my thumb to get free of those bloody cuffs, and I used the blood from my other wound as vaseline, you know, so I can—"

Clawdeen cuts him off before he goes further with the analogy. "Yeah, I got it. That's gotta hurt." Clawdeen points, carefully grabbing his hand to have a better look at his broken thumb.

Keith feels the sharp pain in his hand, he flinches, his faces grimaces, his fingers instinctively curl around Clawdeen's hand.

"Normally, yes. it's starting to. Luckily Scarah is a good teleptah, she was able to block my pain, but now she has to get in the others' heads again, so is kinda hurting again."

"Shhhh, I'm trying to concentrate," she says angrily, eyes closed, focusing all her mind power in her friends. "Damn it, I cannot reach them. I don't know how, but I think he knows I'm a telepath and now is blocking my powers, either that or…" she pauses.

"Do you… think something happened to Lala and Rochelle?" Clawdeen worries.

"Maybe… we should use our phones." Scarah suggests.

"Sure, because he won't hear that nice 'Party like a Monster' ringtone they got." Keith asserts. "Let's just wake her up so we can get going."

"Aah, just shut up…" Frankie moans. "Ouchie… my head hurts," says as she sits on the couch, checking her hair, and of course her head, but firstly her hair. If she is going to die, she's going to do it with a nice hair.

Looks above everything.

"Good, you're up, but easy there, ghoul, you should take it easy, we just took an awfull blow to the head and you can't get over it as fast as I do." Clawdeen warns her. "Can you stil link with us?" She turns to the benshee.

"I think so," Scarah stablishes the psychic link wiith this remaining portion of the group.

So, what now? Inquires the simulacrum.

Alright, let's go get the others first, and then we go for… Nefera, Clawdeen thinks, I'm still unable to believe we're risking our lives and unlives for her.

Remember we're doing this for Cleo, Frankie reminds her, and now I think about it, I'm glad we didn't tell her about this.

And I assume you came up with a plan to avoid dying as we rescue our friends while you were unconscious, Keith asks, the ghouls remain silent. Just what I thought. Luckily I got another plan.

Do you now? Asks Scarah, unsurprised. That was quick even for you. May I know what that is?

Since breaking in and out without being detected and rescuing everyone's mummy dearest is no longer an option, we do the only thing we got left to do, which is what we wanted to avoid: we fight.

Alright, how are we doing that. I mean, I first thought maybe we could have a chance, but now, not even sure we can really make it out of here. Clawdeen announces.

Actually we have somebody here who might have a shot in taking him out, at least long enough to leave the house with our friends. He looks at Frankie.

"Me?" She asks with real surprise "But how?" She whispers. I already blasted him once and t did nothing.

He's right, Scarah confirms, getting a glimpse of his most recent idea. You might have a chance to knock him out for a while. That is, if you're willing to do what he has in mind, fair warning: his plan is kinda low even for him, but it could work.

I'm guessing you still feel terrible for D.J.

What do you think? She glares at him.

Great. Now, remember what I said last time?

The thing about being empty?

Yep. Ok, I want you to take all that I told you, and forget about all that crap.

What? Frankie is confused.

Yeah, it actually never helped me. Now, you said whenever your emotions run high, so does your voltage, right?

Yes… She tilts her head, somehow curious to hear where is he going with this.

Well, that is precisely what I need. I need you to fill that hole with something that will make your spark burst as God's wrath, and then focus all your power to blast that motherfucker and anything that stands between.

I… I don't think I can… I already tried that and it didn't work.

Oh, sure you can. You just got to mean it, like a realy meany. Just like you did with that monster your grandpa made when he time traveled here.

How do you know about that?

Focus! He sounds angry. I want you to unleash your feelings, let them be your guide. Stop holding them back.

I don't—

Ever since Holt died you've been trying to hold back all your emotions, you haven't allowed yoursefl to feel the pain, even now you try to suppress it. But now I am asking you to embrace that sadness, let it grow so it would turn into anger and rage.

Come again?

Now is the time, let grief become rage and hatred. Your anger is a spring, you must use it.

Use my anger? I'm not so sure about that, she confesses, unsure about this idea.

Use your aggressive feelings, girl! Just think of all the pain this man has caused you and your friends. Or do you actually want that to continue? He says in a soft voice, which almost sounds as an insidious whisper behind her ears.

"No!" Frankie yells angrily. Sparks shooting from her.

Just as I thought. He whispers. Now use what you are feeling. Your anger and your grief can make you more powerful than you've ever known. Let them boil inside you, let them grow and burst. Feel your anger, and embrace it as a part of you… work with the pain.

Frankie, admits to herself, she is not sure about how wise is this plan, but she wants to help her friends, to save them from that mad man who dared to hurt Deuce, who killed Holt! And even more important, and this she was ashamed to admit to herself, she wants vengeance! She deserves it! — and faster than she would ever imagine, she feels a wave of hatred and rage forming inside her — an electric storm of emotions! Green bolts of anger jolting from her neck-screws and her hands.

Green light fills the pitch black room.

You feel it, right? The anger growing and bursting inside you? Keith continues. Burning with a power like you've never experienced, he doesn't wait for answer, the expression on her face says everything he needs to know. Now use it. Give in to your hatred and rage. Your anger gives you power! It gives focus!

Frankie, perhaps roused by the rising tide of anger and power, moans and growls, embracing the pain she has fought for so long, giving into an anger that has lurked deep within the darkness of her soul — the rolling thunder of grief storming inside her at last breaks out, etching in the room. The power coursing through her intensifies, long electric arcs jump from her body, crawling all around the walls onto the ceiling. She could not control it, she doesn't want to. Her spark has never burst in such way, it almost sores… and yet, a part of her likes it. She feels as if she could do anything!

The memories of Jackson and Holt come to her mind, her first loves and best friends now gone. She would never feel the warmth of their love, their hugs… she would never laugh with them, share a screechza at the Maul. That man took that away from her, all the things that were left unsaid… just the thought of it makes her pain grow worse.

She gives her pain a rageful shouting voice that won't be silenced. Green lightning shoots from her fingertips. Her extended hands discharge all this new power against the door, visualizing the man who has orchestrated this cacophony of agony.

That was your great plan? Turn her over to the Dark side? Clawdeen asks surprised by this. I don't know what I was expecting, but this, this is disappointing."

The Dark side is more powerful, and that is what we need now, power, besides she needs this, it will be cathartic. Trust me, I know about that. Now lets get moving, I'm sure he heard that.

"He's right! Let's go get him, am done waiting for him to come," Frankie shrieks, full of rage, mingled with sadness. Electricity still arcing between her hands now clenched into fists, a gesture so rare for her.

"Now, hold it there, Lady Lumiya. Save some of that anger for when you find him. Remember, rage is a fuel burns hot and bright, but it also burns fast." Keith warns ger.

"Oh, I shouldn't worry," says in a voice that doesn't sound like the Frankie they've known at all. "'Cause I got plenty of anger left inside me. Now, let's get the rest of the ghouls and deep fry that motherfucker!"

Clawdeen scowl at him, thinking: I hope you're happy. You broke her.

Keith answers with a more-or-less gesture.

Using this new vigorizing power, she bursts into the hall, ready to rescue her friends.

Soon, to the basement, that's where he tortured Deuce and he definetely must be there now, Scarah suggests.

Wasting no time, they run looking for the door to the basement.

"How remarkable, they truly believe after everything I've done, after the lengths I've taken to achieve my vengeance… they can stop me. They, simple teenagers… trying to end me, I who have gone further than anyone to dismantle that little secret club, how funny." Dick sounds watching the security cameras, walking in front of Devon, Rochelle and Draculaura, approaching Nefera who cries endlessly, as a sharp pain courses from her ribs. "Oh, stop crying! You are a grown ass mummy! Imagine if you were giving birth, thankfully you won't live long enough for that. It appears all our fans really want you dead." Dick points, loking at the votes on the website he created in which over 385.856.649 viewers had voted, with and astounding 86.79% asking for her dead.

It would appear people really didn't like her reality show.

Running in the dark halls of the ramshackle house, Clawdeen hears Nefera's painful moaning.

I hear Nefera, she got to hurry! This way, Clawdeen points left, there is the basement. Or what used to be a basement.

Aargh! Suddenly Scarah falls to the ground in pain, she has accidentaly shared Nefera's pain.

Scarah! Are you okay? Clawdeen helps her up.

Yea, I'm fine… the princess… not so much. You got to hurry. He's torturing her only for the pleasure of it… and he's got Rochelle and Draculaura too.

"What? How dares her?" Frankie jolts out angry sparks again.

Blinded by rage, she runs towards the door Clawdeen just pointed, rushing into the basement now turned into a torture dungeon. A fork of green lightning breaks through, a flash of green light fills the hall and basement for a second.

Remember: hit him hard, don't hesitate, let your feelings guide your hands. Keith tells Frankie.

Yet, once they get in the basement, they find only Nefera chained onto the floor, covered in blood, deep cuts running all over her precious body and her once refined face reduced to a bloody pulp, but still unalive, and Devon chained on the wall, not nearly as beat up as as Nefera, but still had some bad bruises on his face.

Quuicly they scan the room for the other ghouls.

"Looking for theseeee!" Unknown calls from behind them with a moking, high-pitched voice, standing on the door, mouth gaged, his clawed hand raised, magically holding Draculaura and Rochelle up in the air.

Slowly, he walks down the stairs with the ghouls floating behind him.

Frankie and Clawdeen growl at him, a large electric arc forms around Frankie from neck screws.

"You better let them go!" She shouts, ready to unleash another powerful green lightning from her hands.

The green frok of lightning hurls at him at such a speed no human could dodge it, but Unknown already saw this coming, and using the boogieman powers he gets from the boogie sand, he vanishes in the darkness, avoiding the lightning, and reappears again.

Everyone is aghast.

The boogieman sand, of course! How could I not see that coming? Keith wonders, unable to believe he wouldn't forsee this. But Frankie is the most affected by all this. This attack was everything she had, and it did nothing on him.

"Is that it? I really expected more from you, I thought I had caused you more pain than that."

He knows the plan. How?

"Don't act so surprised, after all I am the avatar of a poweful primordial God."

"Actually you're not. You're only half the way through the ritual, you have to sacrife another two to achieve your goal." Keith points out.

This angers him and amuses him at the same time.

"You know, I really like you kid." Kieth and the ghouls are shocked. "Oh, dont get me wrong, I'm going to kill all of you, but I really like your spunk. Reminds me of me when I was your age."

"Except I've never dreamed of killing people." "Touché. Anyway, back to you…" he points at frankie, "how about we give it another shot, this time I won't even move and, what if I stab one of your friends right in front of you? Would that give you the anger you need to take me down?"

Frankie scowls at him again, sparks dangerously jumping from her neck. They could tell he is smiling — almost luaghing beneath his mask by the way sounds.

"Yes, that's the spark we're looking for. Now, which one of them should be? Oh! I know, leave it at chance. How does it go?" Says with such amusement in his voice. "Right. Eeny…" he begins to sing, pointing at Rochelle.

Her friends are paralyzed with fear, not knowing what do… "…meeny…" he moves towards Draculaura.

What could they possibly do?

"…miny…" he keeps singing, slowly, pointing at Rochelle again.

Unknown pauses for a moment that seems to last forever. Her rock heart beating strongly in her chest, echoing insde the basement. He flavors this moment… looking at the sweat running down their faces. To see that claw moving between their friends chilled their very bones.

"…moe…" points at Draculara again.

Every instinct of Clawdeen growled at her, telling her to jump at his throat, and it was only Keith's bloody hand tightly holding onto her right claw what stops her from doing something stupider.

Don't, he will kill you — sacrifice you, and make himself more powerful.

"Catch…" He points at Rochele again, "a monster…" he points at Lala, "by…" his claw taps Rochelle's leg, "her toe!" He finishes, laughing, graping Draculaura's right foot.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI

"Sir, I can assure you we are doing everything we can to find your daugther. Our experts are doing their best to trace the origin of the signal to then take down that website, you just need to give them more time," a she-wolf FBI Agent says in a futile attempt to calm Ramses de Nile.

"Give them more time? That is precisely what my daugther doesn't have! My daugther was announced to die tonight at midnight, you said you would do anything to rescue my daugther, and yet you have come empty handed! Tell me, is that the best you can do?! Showing up with nothing?!" He roars at the agents. "Have you not seen the votes? My princess could die tonight, and you have no clue whatsoever as to where her location might be! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! How can you ask me to trust you?"

"Hey! Better watch it when you talk to my partner!" Her boogie man partner warns him, getting between them.

"Mr. de Nile, I understand this isn't easy, but we're not your slaves, yelling at us won't make us work faster, so if you could please calm down and cooperate with us." Special Agent Scarla says as calm as she can.

She is as patient as she can be, yet he could not understand her. Calm down? She asks him to calm down. How can she ask him to calm down when his daugther is in peril!?

"Tell me Ms. Howler, do you have any children?" He asks as coldly as he can.

She knows where he wants to go with this, she has been down this path too many times. He wanted to know if she is a mother, if she could stand in his position and imagine what it would feel like to know your own child is missing and in the hands of a serial killer. He wants to know if she can, for at least one second, imagine the pain and angst he feels right now. And the answer to that is "Yes."

"Then you must be fully aware of the fear that we all parents feel by the mere thought of losing our children, to imagine that they might leave the house, only to never return."

"I do—"

"And the pain it comes with knowing that your only fear has come true, that of your children, your own flesh and blood are at the hands of a serial killer who wants to kill them simply for the fun of it, do you know that feeling too?"

"No… I don't… I don't know what it feels like."

"Ah, well… Up until yesterday, neither did I. But now… that's all I can think about, that my precious daugther is missing, because I couldn't protect her. And the only thing worse than not knowing where she is, is knowing that she is at the hands of a murderer that treats her unlife as a game! And that the last thing I might ever see of her, could be her excution on a computer screen with millions of others watching and enjoying it as if it were a movie! So don't tell me to calm down again."

"Okay, you got a fair point. You don't want to calm down, fine, don't do it."

"Of course I won't!"

"But if you don't stop yelling at us and listen, whatever chances we got of getting your daughter back to you just get thinner and thinner. So I will ask you once again, why do you think your daugther would be at that ASOME meeting, and why would he take her with him of all people?"

"I… I don't know," he lies. How could he tell her that she was there in his place?

How can he admit that he is part of ASOME, the same organization that tries to take down the very same goverment upon which he realies now to find his daugther? The goverment for which she works?

How can he admit to anyone that the reason why his daugther is in danger, is because of him? Because he placed her in harm's way?

He is the one who was called to that meeting, he is the one who should have been in that room, dead with all the others, but he was too afraid, too much of a coward to go, and instead he allowed his daughter to go in his place only because he could never say no to her when she insisted in something.

But Agent Scarla calls bullshit on that, she has been on this long enough to know that he is hiding something.

"The truth is…" he sighs deeply, ready to confess… "I… I don't know what my daughter is up to. The reason why she is in this situation is because I wasn't a good father, I should have known before that something was wrong with her. I noticed that she has been different lately, but I could never imagine she would join such people. I didn't know her well enough and now she might die, because I couldn't protect her. Tell me, what kind of father am I if I can't protect my daughter from herself?"

Am sorry, did I say confess? I meant to say, save his ass with the best lie he can come up with, but at least he admits he is a bad father.

"You tell me you lived with her for the last six thousand years in a tomb, and yet you didn't notice any change in her behavior recently?" The boogie man agent asks in disbelief. "Okay, I'll bite, what about - uh, new friends, a new boyfriend, maybe a crush?"

"No, no! She… she and I, we never really talked about that. She never came to me with any formal suitors actually. She always enjoyed her freedom. She didn't want to be tied down to a single man."

"I believe that," he says looking at her pictures. "In fact I believe that she liked freedom so much, that she was willing to get to any lenghts to get as much of it as she could, but what gives more freedom than power? After all, back in the old days, she had the freedom to do anything she wanted, because she had all the power. If you ask my opinion, as a profiler, I'd say she wanted more power to get more freedom, and what a better way to do that than with sex? i can easily see how could she subdue and control other men in that group."

De NIle steps closer to him with a raising flush of anger. "What are you saying?"

"That she was having intercourse with some of the ASOME members."

"WHAT!?"

"Is easy to figure why would they take her in, she would do great in their lines, no offense, but she had to ensure her place somehow, and she barely finished high school, so brains wasn't cutting it. So I'm just trying to figure out whether it was a boyfriend or whether it was just some random roll in the hay what got her in that position, and maybe what position."

"What the hell is this, Agent? No! You would not speak like that of my daugther in my presence!" Ramses states angrily, slamming his scepter against the floor. The thud echoes eerily in the room.

"I'm just doing my job," Agent. McAbrey says cooly.

"By suggesting my daughter was a slut?"

"I'll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home."

"You shut your face right now!" Ramses shouts, stepping up to the Agent.

"And you know what? No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for what she so foolishly believes is rightfully hers: a throne that she no longer has. After all you still feed the fantasy that she is a heir to the throne-"

"Watch your words! We are royalty!"

"Are you? You can't be a king, if you don't have a kingdome to rule. Am sure you must have realized that by now, I know she did. Maybe she was there looking for a suitor that would give her the world as wedding gift." McAbrey goes on, looking at Ramses and in a very calm voice says: "Whose idea was this? Yours, or hers?"

His nostrils flared beneath the bandages.

With those words, Ramses de Nile loses the little grasp of control he has, and in an act unbefitting a king as the one he fancies himself, he jumps, reaches across the table and punches the agent in the mouth. Yet, he remains calm.

"No! Daddy!" Cleo gasps in shock, looking from the corner of the room.

Ramses punches McAbrey again as he calmly asks "Who did this?"

But Ramses' only response is to continue with the assault.

"Dad" Stop!"

"Ramses," the agent cocks his gun and points at the mummy's stomach, or rather where it should be, assuming it is still there. He looks down "Whose idea was this?"

He stops his punch and looks anguished as he pushes himself away from the agent.

"All right, that is enough" Agent Scarla shouts, ordering her partner to get away from Ramses .

Suddenly, Ramses does something more unbefitting for him, he cries saying: "This is all my fault! I - I should have paid more attention to her!"

Immediately, Scarla takes agent McAbrey out of the pyramid, his behavior was unjustified, even if they had suspicions from a very long time, but the worst part was that he called her a slut in front of the father. That goes against everything they were taught in Quantico!

On the other claw, is really hard not to get there.

Over the years, in the brief time the de Nile family has been in the U.S., they have been the center of some very scandalous news, mostly related to Ramses' daugthers, with Nefera being the one with the most embarrasing headlines. More than once the Internet and every monster celebrity news channel referred to her as the Kim Kardashian of the monster community, a statement she finds highly offensive every time… I'm talking about… KIm, for even she has some standards, non of which falls among the lines of having an ass you can fit in a single chair — but even then, let's just say she sets the bar a little bit higher than Nefera. I mean, for once, despite being such a despicable human being, no one has ever tried to killl her in a worldwide live stream for the whole world to see. Nefera on the other hand… well, you saw, as so does quite a number of people. And it would appear that her descent into disgrace would drag her whole family with it.

When the police told Ramses about the results of the vox populi in the website, which they still can't take down — it totally sounds like a lie, but the security of the site is even higher than the NASA's, and the origin of the signal is impossible to find — he felt how he died one more time. In fact every breathe he draws, even though he doesn't really need to, feels like dying once more. He couldn't understand how this many people would want to see his daugther die. Sure, they weren't angels, but come on! What have they done to deserve this? Other than, you know, joining a fascist group that wants to enslave all mankind and some of the lower classes of monsters.

Is all those filthy humans! Ramses tells to himself, but deep down he knows there is no point in blaming them, for their enemies are many, and come from all species.

When the police finally left the pyramid, he asks his daugther Cleo to leave him alone, and despite her hatred for her sister, she couldn't bare to see him like this. She wished her sister would die already, so they'd be done with all this media circus soon. For how long would those vultres feaast upon a disgrace like this? Whatever the time, she knows she won't mind, she knows that she won't have to suffer through that alone, she will have her loved one Deuce with her, and her beast ghoulfriends with her through thick and thin, not everyone can say that.

"Maybe I should see if he's killing her already. I don't see how the votes can change from now to midnight," she says to herself as she walks upstairs to her room. "Or maybe he's still torturing her…" she mutters as she opens the website. "I bet that stupid whore has cried all her makeup by now," she laughs, as if she didn't have as much makeup on her.

Once on the website, all she has to do is select whether she wants to see a video of the previuos hours, or if she wants to see what's happening in real time, but she has no interest in the old footage, she wants to see what's happening right now! So she skips straight to the good part…

"I love live streaming, but I just wish I could fast forward time to the part where she begs him not to kill her," says with her phone slowly playing the video, then stopping abd buffering. She scowls at this worthless piece of technology. "…Or buffer first. That's okay. Buffer is good. I mean… I only get to see my sister tortured to death today, Internet! You go ahead and buffer!" She mutters in the doorway to her room. "Stupid Internet." Cleo says, hiding her phone under her pillows, leaving the video charging as she goes to the bathroom to pee. She is quite paranoid of having cellphones around her toilet since the last time she was texting and peeing… let's just say it didn't end well.

Her phone fell in the toilet, and that was about the best part, how could it be worse? Not important. You figure.

Now she is done peeing, she is back on her phone and she is horrified to hear a pair of voices that she knows just too well to confuse: those were the voices of Clawdeen and Frankie.

Of course, she couldn't really see them because the camera is pointing at Nefera the whole time, but she knows those are their voices. She spends too much time with them to confuse them, but why would they be there? Could it be that Unknown has taken them to sacrifice them tonight along with Nefera? Or even worse, would they be stupid enough to go after him as they always do?

Sadly, she knows them too well to know that might be the case.

When she puts on her headphones, she can hear clearly how he begins to mutter.

"…Eeny… meeny… miny…" he sings, as Cleo begs to be wrong. She prays to Ra that those aren't her friend's voices, not even imagining he is pointing at Rochelle with his silver claw at the very moment.

Unknown pauses for a moment, brief, but it feels like forever.

She doesn't want to watch anymore, but she needs to know for sure… are those her friends?

"…moe…" he points at Draculara. the terrified mummy can only beg for her friends to be safe, she couldn't even imagine Draculaura is also in that infernal house. "Catch… a monster… by… her toe!" He finishes, laughing, graping Draculaura's right foot.

Lala shrieks in fear, and even though it was barely audible, Cleo is able to recognize her squeak, that unmistakable mousy voice. If she had a beating heart inside her, she would feel how it stops.

Now there is only silence, not even Nefera is moaning. Just like Cleo, she seems to expect something — a scream or anything… but nothing. And with the camera pointing only at her sister, she could only imagine what's happening in that basement, something she didn't want to do anymore.

Yet, she could never imagine how much he enjoys this moment, to see the horror in the ghouls' faces. How he smiles wildly beneath his mask.

"But if she hollers, let her go," he adds letting go of her foot, going again. "Eeny… meeny… miny… moe…" he sings with his claw pointing from Rochelle to Lala, going even slower than before as the ghouls regret every decision they made that brought them to this point, "my mother says… to pick… the very… best and that… is… Y… O… U!"

Draculaura moans in fear, hot pink colored tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh my God, you should look at your face! It was clear I was going to stab you all along!" Dick laughs loudly. "After all, you're the one made of flesh, soft, tender and easy to tear flesh!

In a split second, hIs silver claws pierce her stomach.

A sudden sharp pain shoots, cutting through her mid section. A burning sensation overrides her, as if fire grew inside her.

"Curse this corset!" Yells, pulling away his claw, spilling her dark pink blood on the floor and the walls. Draculaura shrieks in pain like she never has. And as miraculously and unlikely as it seemed, her whale bone corset just saved her unlife, stopping his claws from reaching all her guts, yet… her wound still runs deep, and is most likely to kill her again if is not treated soon, and the only way she could heal from something this bad is with blood which she will not drink. "What is it with your kind that can't dress like people from the tweenty-first century? Like the slutty one, you know, the one most likely to be secretary! Argh, I should've done her." He growls. "Wanna know what? I wanted to kill you quickly and painless, but fotget it. You can bleed on the floor to death! …Again!"

Losing his calm demanour, he flings Draculaura across the room, dropping her wounded body next to Keith.

Then something inside Clawdeen snaps, something deep within her that she has always held restrained breaks free and before they notice she has already jumped at Unknown. Her eyes glowing madly, not goolden, but red, thirsty for blood, her claws ready to tear open his chest, her fangs and fur even grow larger than ever before.

She has become feral.

Clawdeen snarls, none of her friends could believe she has launched herself at that man, and as fast as she is (she became nothing but a brown blur for a split second), he is still faster than she, able to duck away, slashing her with his claw. She feels a sharp and burning pain in her left leg, and hits the ground on all four paws, the wound burns as if she had just spilled acid on herself, pain beyond endurance stabbing through her. But her mind is disconnected and wouldn't recognize the in jury, in fact the sensations only made her more mad. She growls in anger ready to pounce and strike again — and the man caught her by the neck with his clawless hand, as if he were catching hold of a rebellious puppy; his hold on Rochelle slipping to the point where he drops her body. "Looks who wants to be a an Aplha Bitch now," he laughs. "You are the one they call Clawdeen, right? I gave you a lot of thought, believe it or not. You are the one who is all about fashion and design, and all that crap. Making sure you always wear something pretty, to look your best on the outside so people won't see the hideous creature you are in the inside, and look at you now, showing your true know, it didn't take me too long to think… you should be a coat I should be wearing." Dick claims with a wild grin she could not see.

But is not like a single word of his made sense to her anymore, she is no longer a person, she is now a bloodlusted beast, her mind has regretted to the emotional state of a berserker killer wolf, and as such, she sinks her claws into his wrist.

He lets go of her. This is the first significant wound he's had in a long time. He tries to get hold of her again, to slash her with his claws, but this time it is she who is too fast for him to grasp, and she is the one doing the slashes in his chest, and biting in his arm.

Do it now! Remember, your anger give you focus!

Thinking of Devon, thinking of D.J. and Deuce, thinking of poor Lala who lays on the floor bleeding, struggling to breathe, Frankie makes a quick decision. Wasting no time while he is still focused on Clawdeen, Frankie prepares for another attack, gazing coldly at her target. Summoning all her anger, all her hatred, all her will… She would never let her beast friends get hurt again. And it was dumb luck that he couldn't notice the sound of the sparks behind him over the sound of Clawdeen's growling on his face, and the nasty sound made when she bites his scalp.

"Get off of me, you stupid bitch!" Shouts, kicking Clawdeen square in the chest, flinging her across the door of the basement.

With a determined mental act, Frankie attacks one more time. A large bolt releases from her hands explosively, shooting ahead — and in a split second, the manstanding before them has been… THUNDERSTRUCK!

And as she unleashes all the power of her Spark, she could feel how her body becomes weary, and her lightning growing weaker and weaker by the second. Sparks jolt from her joints, her knees begin to tremble, unsteady, her vision goes blurry and even though she tries to stand, she falls to her knees, everything before her blends into a single unrecognizable blurr. She has never used that much power ever since the incident with the monster created by her grandfather, or as you would call it, her uncle.

This is it, she's given everything she got inside her, but the question remains… "Was it enough to take him down?" She asks feebly.

Scarah, who knees besides her to get her up, looks up at Unknonw's smooking body.

Frankie uses all the strenght she has left to raise her eyes, her sight becoming slightly clearer, now able to see shapes. The answer is a no, she realizes, as her teary eyes focus.

Even though he is down, they could see he still can move, and… is there something wrong with her that she wanted him to die? She thinks before fainting.

Slowly, he gets back on his feet, ready to kill these children, no more playing around with them. Before he even takes a step, Clawdeen sinks her fangs in his leg, this is the first time she ever tastes the blood of another living being.

The hunter shouts in pain and staggered back, pulling back his leg tearing his own flesh, then kicking at her in the face.

"That's it! I'm going to fucking kill you!" He raises his silver claws ready to strike her down, when he feels a massive weight hitting him on the back and small sharp claws scratching at his face, looking for his eyes and mouth.

Rochelle has now joined the fight for her friends. But despite the wounds, it was still not enough. then the mask tears off, revealing the man behind. Those perpetually bloodshot eyes, the gaunt, almost fleshless face and the long but brittle hair falling of his head, Richard "Dick" Wayne is not even the shadow of the man he once was.

Was this the price for using all that dark magic all these years? The gradual destruccion of his own body, the decay of his own flesh and blood, or was it the other around? Is all this magic stopping something too powerful and fast for science to stop?

"Damn it, this has gone awfully out of hand," Keith says. "We gotta do something!" .

"Like what? We already got two ghouls down," Scarah replies, holding Frankie.

"Okay, let me think!" He says, looking at Lala's wounds. "Come on, why don't you heal already? This should be a scratch by now."

"Draculaura is a vegan, she doesn't heal like the other vampires."

"What?"

"It means… I don't drink blood…" Draculaura explains.

"Ok, ok, then I think I got what you need," says taking off his glove from his wounded hand and his kriss dagger to cut himself again.

"No… no!" She stops him. "I… don't drink human blood… I… don't… like it…"

"That is incredibly stupid. We all need blood to live," Keith remarks as he uses the dagger to cut open his left palm once again; his blood always coagulated quickly and the wound he had for the spell no longer bleeds; it is a swift searing pain, and blood runs from the cut, a ruby stream that splattered onto her face, teasing her, enticing her with its smell. A seductive smell she hasn't sniffed in centuries.

"NO! " She tries to stop him. "I can't drink blood again… is wrong and…"

"I don't have time for this," he says unwilling to waste anyone's time with this vegan nonesense, pressing her wound with his dagger.

She opens her mouth in pain, but she doesn't holler any sound. Before she notes, Keith's hand is already on her mouth, his blood touching her lips, and that which she has sworn to never taste again streams down her tongue.

Coppery blood explodes into her mouth as the man feeding her acts as if he were feeding a baby. "There it is, not so bad, eh? You look so cute suckling on my blood,"

It has been so long since she tasted human blood — or any blood whatsoever. She convinced herself that the supplements and substitues could sustain her as well as blood, that they taste as good as real blood, but the truth is she has forgotten the taste of it ages ago.

She could not remember that it is like drinking wine, only but much better in any way. She forgot that it is more than just a drink. That human blood would do far mor than just quelch her thirst. More than just sustain her. It would fill her with warmth and power and life! — NOTHING tastes quite like blood or better in any way — and nothing feels like it. Just one more mouthful and she would be the vampire she was centuries ago, the vampiress she was in her prime, the vampire her father wants her to be — and is then when she is back to herself, pulling off Kieth's hand from her mouth.

"NO! I — I can!t keep drinking you!" She says affraid of what would happen if she continues.

"Your wound is not completely healed yet," he says ready to feed her again.

"No, I can't do it, I—"

"Just shut up and drink my blood!" He orders as he forces her to drink his blood one more time.

One more gulp of it and she would be the vampire she was in the old times, invincible, lightning fast, unstoppable!

But what Keith did not realize, is that not only her body would heal, but also change, becoming a differet kind of vampire. Her skin takes a different shade of pink, darker than before, her pink strike turn almost red and her oink heart goes black.

Unadvertedly, she begins to moan, experiencing tingling sensations building up inside her, quickly exploding all through her body, spreading down her legs and up to her chest, erupting in a sound they would never imagine could come out of her mouth.

"…I think I broke her." Keith reckons turning to Scarah, getting back his hand.

"I… I haven't tasted blood in so many years. I have absolutely forgotten how good it taste;" she says, her attitued and even her voice sounds different, as a different ghoul entirely.

"So… are you ok?"

"Ok? I feel better than just ok," says with an elation that contrasts greatly against their situation. "Not only my wound is gone. So is the tireness, and I can see things more clear now! I totally forgot I can see in the dark," says looking clearly around her. "There is no rash. My body's tingling. I feel good all over." Explains caressing herself in a… very suggestive way, then with a quick glance at her hands, she notices her nails have become talons. "And my nails! I haven't had nails like these since I was thirteen hundred… or so. And I just know what to do with them," she glares at Unknown who still fights against the feral werewolf Clawdeen and the frightengly fierce gargoyle Rochelle.

Without a second thought, the always sweet and fragile Draculaura hurls herself at the monster hunter, and with this new found strenght, she holds him looking to bite his neck.

"Well, congratulations, you broke the sweetest and most hamrless ghoul we've ever met." Devon snarls from the wall.

Keith hurries to free his friend from those chains, with his lock picking kit in his hand. "Yeah… I do have a knack for driving people mad." He admits. "Is it worng that this is actually kinda cool?"

"Are kinding me? Our friends are getting killed there!" He snaps at him.

"So? Still a pretty cool fight, besides they don't seem to be in any real danger anymore," he reckons looking at the fight the ghouls are putting against the monster hunter.

It was far more than they imagined they could do.

"Okay, it is kinda cool." Devon admits.

"You two gotta be fucking kiding me?!" Scarah shouts at them.

"What, it looks like a movie!" Keith replies. "Which means the good guys are about to win now!" Says hoping the ghouls to win the fight now, but instead all the opposite happens.

What little upper hand they had, fades before their eyes.

Stabbing Draculaura in the shoulder, he pulls her and uses her body as a shield against Rochelle, who pierces her chest with he marmol claws, and with a kick in Lala's back, he flings both of them against the wall. only Clawdeen remains, and even she begins to run out fuel.

Her movements become slow, predictable, and now with a single blow to the face, he knocks her back to herself. Then everything looks as slow motion, Clawdeen falls to her knees, a heavy kick lands in her ribs, two of them crack, she can hear them inside her. Blood spouts out of her mouth, breathing becomes heavy. Then another foot drops on her back, her face hits the floor. Nefera shrieks in shock and horror, Scarah is paralyzed with fear. With one hand he holds the bundle mess she calls hair, rasing her head, holding her face to face as he raises his claws.

"I wanted to save you for last, but I suppose the other will do as good."

Then a splash of blood rains on her face, and with the rain came a thundering sound, booming in the basement.

Staggering, Richard steps back, almost losing balance as he turns around on the stair, with his eyes teary he sees a dark figure standing right behind him, then one more shotgun, and another one and one more. Each hits square in his chest, the blood soaking his shirt feels warm at first, but then it doesn't, cold would become his last sensation. And the last sight his eyes have before fading to black is that of Keith as he shoots him one last time with Devon's gun.

Surely if anyone else had shot him with a gun, it wouldn't have done much to him, but then again anyone else is not Keith Morningstar or Devon Darkholme. They knew he would be protected by a powerful charm casted with the power from his decieving god, which is why Keith covered the bullets with Verita's blood while they were in the truck. He knew they would — kill the charm as you might say, thus each shot would remind him of the one truth he wanted to escape the most, that with which we all must live: the reality of our mortality.

Now weak, he takes one step closer to Keith whose heart beats strongly in stark contrast to that of the man approaching him, and utters only two words, faint, but clear enough.

"Thank you."

For a brief moment as he hits the floor, he knows what has just happend and what would come, and the next second he doesn't.


	17. Chapter 17

XVII

28 September

12:23 P.M.

A week has passed since the miraculous scape of the Egyptian Mummy Princess and top model Nefera de Nile from the claws of Unknown, but if you look at any news channel, you would think it was just yesterday for the non-stopping retelling of her heartbreaking story of survival, if you believe that shit. What really keeps them going back with it, is not that Nefera somehow managed to return home safe the same night she was meant to be sacrificed, but the mysterious conditions behind her scape.

She claims he had more victims in his lair that brooke free that night and managed to kill him and helped her in her scape, but she couldn't tell the police who they were because she didn't ask for their names and could not see their faces to give them a description. But this story doesn't make any sense to the cops, and it doesn't help much that she can't remember the exact location of the house where she was held captive or that all her memories are hazy. The cops and the FBI Agents pushed to get any more useful information out of her, to force her to remember anything she might be supressing due to the trauma, but it was to no avail. Naturally they would have pushed harder, but her father, seeing how uncomfortable and unhappy she was with all the questioning and the chasing from the cops and media, did what any other overprotective father with tons of money and good connections would do: he set armed guards around their pyramid, ready to open fire to any trespasser. This worked wonders with the reporters, in less than a day they were all gone, not even ghost reporters dared showing their transparents faces, afraid they would get shot with salt bullets in the face; it wouldn't kill them, but it would hurt like the devil and leave a horrible mark. And as for the cops, he just needed a little talk with one of his friends from the Fearsome Body of Intelligence, whom he met at ASOME, to keep them and the normie FBI away from his daugther. But why would she not tell them what really happened that night?

If you think those two convinced Scarah to mess with her mind, you'd be right.

This intervention is what keeps the authorities in the dark regarding what happened off-screen that night, leaving them with only half a story, and a bunch of screaming and gunshots before the transmittion ended.

The only people with the capacity to explain what really happened that night are the SST members, and as you might guess, Headless Headmistress Bloodgood is not very pleased with those events. She was so horrified when they appeared in her office that night, wounded, covered in blood, yet relieved to see them alive and with Nefera. She wanted to yell at them, but even then she couldn't bring herself to do it, specially not when she heard what Keith had to do to save Clawdeen.

That same night they all decided that they could never allow anyone outside that office know the truth. Scarah more than willing, used her powers to compell Nefera so she couldn't remember that they were her saviors that night, that she owed them her unlife. And she took some pleasure in being one of the few people who knows that she is alive due to the people that she despises so much. Nefera's ignorance was both her punishment and Scarah's bless.

With some unicorn horn powder that she keeps in her first aid kit, she was able to cure all their wounds so the ghouls woudn't rise suspicion when they return home that night, except for Nefera who had to remain wounded to seel the con; the ghouls took pleasure in that too. She couldn't even think of telling their parents about this, how do you explain a parent that her daugther ventured into a serial killer's house to rescue another girl because you, the headmistress, set a group of students to earch for him?

Then she realizes that she couldn't expell Keith and Devon, they were there because she asked them to get involved in this on the fisrt place, and most important, after what Keith did that night, she needs to keep a close eye on him — both of them, thus she decides to give him the room he wanted so much when he signed up for this program in the first place.

Of course, there were not many rooms available, so she had to give him the once unused attic and then SST headquarters as room. As a matter of fact, he asked for that room specifically, and she wouldn't argue with him. She felt so guilty for what he had to do, that she couldn't say no to this small request, and lucky him, there happens to be a bathroom there. It appears that was in fact an old room that went in disuse and then turned into attic a few decades back, and she didn't even know it.

Now, today, he finally moves in to his new room in a boarding school as he always wanted. Best part, he didn't even have to go outside the country! Which is good, cause he is in the no-fly list. And all he had to do was killing a serial killer… and the funny thing is that the only reason he ever agreed to help Devon is because he struck a deal with the headmistress in which he would get a room at the school as all the other exchange students do if he helped in the capture of Unknown. You can say he kept his end of the deal.

But focussing on the good thing, this is a new beggining for him, for eveyone, as they no longer have to fear the Unknown, or at least he feels it should be that way. Yet, the feeling is anything but joy.

03:42 P.M.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

Immerse in his own thoughts, sunking in the bottom of his new mattres, he flinches slightly at the sound of the thick wodden door as an unexpected visitor arrives to see the new resident of Monster High.

She speaks softly and cautiosly with no intention of disturbing him, but longing — in dire need to see him; she doesn't give her name. He doesn't need it, her voice already says who she is.

"Keith? Are you there? It's me… Clawdeen."

If it had been anyone, he would have ignored her; he would sink his head deeper into his pillow, block the noise and wait for her to leave, but with Clawdeen things are different. He feels compelled to attend; even if he doesn't want to see anyone, he would open the door just for her. She is the exception to the rule.

With her wolf ears, she can hear him moving on the 30 years old wodden floor, the squeak of the tables mixed with the unmistakable sound of bottles clanking.

"Clawdeen… I… didn't expect to see you untill Monday." He speaks almost in a whisper peering his face, not fully opening the door.

She could see he hadn't shaved this week since already had the same faded goatee he had when they worked together for their Freakynomics class.

"Well, the headmistress had me and the ghouls coming here today to talk about Operetta, she seems to be getting worse. Now you live here I thought of, you know, saying hi since I haven't seen you much this week. I thought you were avoiding me."

"I wasn't — I wouldn't. I thought you were avoiding me…"

"Well, I wasn't. I was actually starting to worry about you." Clawdeen says trying to take a look at his room. All she could see is his bed, the rest is as dark as a vampire's room.

How do you get an attic to be this gloom?

"Yeah? Well, thanks for worrying but as you can see, am fine and… how did you know I am here?"

"I — she told me you moved in today. I thought maybe you could use some help with, I don't know, anything? Boxes? Setting up your room?" She explains.

"That's… nice, thanks. But… I'm done unpacking. Maybe if you had come six hours earlier. Not like I have that many things, anyway."

"Well, that — that's good." She says with a very weak smile; she looks uneasy. "I suppose I can't come in."

"I don't know, can you? What do the school rules say about ghouls being in a boy's room?"

Then he realizes the look on her face, the tone of her voice… he has never been the brightest bulb when it comes to people skills, but even he could see that she came to his door for more than a social call. She needs to talk to someone, and for whatever reason that someone is him.

"Because y'know, I wouldn't like to be the guy who breaks that rule on his first day living in the school."

Clawdeen giggles ever so slightly.

He opens the door completly, turning on the lights so she could come in.

As soon as she steps in, she could see that he has already imposed his personality upon the gloomy room, or so you would think, and if this is really all there is to it, then she has to say the decoration is rather austere, with nothing on the walls that reflected any of his tastes, not a single poster of his favorites bands, movies, heroes or his likes are, he is clearly keeping them to himself rather than exposing them for the world to see, which is not a surprise coming from him and in fact a good reflection of who he is since he always takes his time to open up to people or getting comfortable in a place.

"Looks comfy."

"I'm only gonna be here for less than a year. Don't see why I should decorate it as though it were a long term plan," says as though reading her thoughts."You don't decorate places you don't plan to ger attached to. Or to live long."

"Right…" says looking around, avoiding a discussion about it.

The only thing in the room that says anything about him is a shelve full of books, and for the looks of them, she could tell those books are entirely his own. She highly doubts that the school library has a copy of The Universe Seen Through a Quantum Glass by Dr. Johnathan Osterman, or Stretching Hands Through the Multiverse: Thoughts on String Theory and How to Open the Multiverse by Dr. R.R. and Dr. S. Storm; those two books are as thick as a Bible, each one! Other than that, the room is as simple and dull as it can be, except for the set of lava lamps on his nightstand. And just as she has first imagined, the clanking came from three empty bottles of liquor: two bottles of Vodka, and one of Bourbon, and non-surprisingly, he is half the way with his fourth bottle.

 _Looks like Operetta isn't the only one who's in need for an intervention,_ she thinks.

Alchoholism in teenagers, that is such a sad thing, they should at least wait till they're 21 to waste their lives, but then again, he killed a man, so if anyone should feel like drinking, that's him.

Go ahead champ, get wasted, get wild! Forget there is blood on your hands.

"Looks like you really like dark places," says with a nervous smile, noting the heavy black curtain on the window.

"I'm guessing you're here for more than a small talk. How about you tell me why you came here?" He asks half curtly, half waitig-to-hear-what-she-has-to-say.

"You always cut the bs when you're drunk, don't you?"

"Or sober, assuming I can talk to people. Is one of the perks of having nearly zero social skills, it saves me from people treating me like an idiot, having conversations about things I don't give a fuck, or being their third wheel on a date that won't end up in a threesome, or even worse, one that would end up in a threesome in which I don't want to be."

"Right…"

"So I'll ask again, what brings you here?"

"Well, can't a ghoul just visit a friend?"

"True, but you have not called me or texted me in a whole week. Could barely look at me at class, so it raises a few questions."

She sighs deeply, remorsefully. "I just, you know, don't have a cellphone anymore 'cuz I'm grounded, and I thought maybe you wanted some space after… what happened."

"After I killed a man, you mean?"

"Barely a man. Yes… I came here to apologize for that and because I thought maybe you needed somebody to talk to. I don't think you should be alone after that." Clawdeen speaks as she tryies to approach him, realizing that talking about this is the last last thing he wants to do. "Keith… Is… everything ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine. Everything is as good as it could be." He lies.

He can't even look at her in the eye…

"You don't sound like it."

"Yeah, well… just because they're as good as they can be, it doesn't mean they're great." He snarls.

"Guess you're right on that." She reckons, looking prone. "But that doesn't mean they can't be better. I… realized I never said thank you for… saving me that night."

Keith flinches slightly.

"Well, there's no reason to thank me."

"No reason? Keith, what you did was more than I could ever ask from anyone! I… I don't think… there is no way I could ever thank you enough."

Clawdeen moves closer to him.

"You don't need to thank me." He insists, sounding angry.

"But I do! You killed for me. I lost control of myself that night, I wanted to kill him. I went feral, something that never happened to me, not like that, and I jumped at him as if I could get him, I was stupid… he could have killed me and I should have listened to you when you saId I shouldn't be there, and for that you did —"

"What had to be done! Listen, I don't regret killing him."

"You… you don't?"

"No, I don't, he was about to kill somebody I…" _love? Is that what you wanted to say, boy? No, as much as you do, you could never say it_. He pauses for a moment, Clawdeen looks at him waiting to hear the rest of the sentence. "I care about for reasons yet for me to understand and… I just had to save you and what I did was the only thing I could do, so I don't regret it." He tries to look at her face, but as much as he tried, he couldn't meet her eyes. "Have you been able to sleep at night?"

"No, I could not sleep much that night, or any of these past nights anyway. Have you?" She asks him.

"No, not really," replies as he sits on his bed. "I haven't slept much this week actually, mostly passing out."

"Yeah, I figured that…" she drawls as she sits to his right. If she felt strange about sitting on the place where Keith sleps, she gave no sign. Then again, the bed is Keith's only furniture, besides the table and this would be the second time they share a bed. "I still feel it, y'know? The anger and the fear that took over me that night. When am alone in the dark, I feel… it can happen again, 'cuz he is still there, lurking, staring at me as I sleep whispering those words in my ears," she should be a coat I should be wearing. When he said that her mind was lost, his words made no sense to her, but with every night, she remembers more of what she did and what he said, now those words will never leave her head. "Now, I feel I need a nightlight whenever I go to bed. But you don't seem to have that problem."

Keith sighs deeply and takes a look around his new room. "I… always felt more comfortable in the shroud of the night, safer than in broad daylight, but now, I feel like it haunts me, as if the darkness wants to kill me. Am trying to get over that feeling, to be the same I was before that night… We never had any intention of killing him, not me anyway. I know I might come off as the one who is only a lab accident away from being a supervillain, and I spend a lot of time at school labs, but I never killed anyone untill that night. I've thought of many ways of killing people I hate, how to hide their bodies so the police would never find them, how to destroy all evidence. Probably a lot more than any normal person would, but I've never thought of actually doing it, because I know what is right and wrong, and I know where the line is, and you can only step so far accross that line before you get so deep no one can save you." He confesses. "I might be a little volatile sometimes, and selfish, but I was never a murderer. No matter how close I got there, I could never bring myself to it. Devi, on the other hand… you get close enough to him, and you'll see he is a little rougher around the edges than he looks like… he… I always thought he is the scary one out of the two of us, and the scariest part is that he can hide it so well, only I can see it. I wouldn't be surprised he would decide to play God if he suddenly got the power to kill people by writting their names on a notebook or, I don't know, a tablet; he could cope with it so well. But I always felt I couldn't bear such burden. Unless it were Hitler. In that case I would be telling everyone. I would get shirts made saying: I killed Hitler!" He remarks with the only glimpse of a smile he's had in days.

"Of course. Then what were you —?" She begins before he cuts her off.

"We thought… maybe we could use those truth bullets to hurt him, maybe blow his knees, and send him to jail. I thought… that for once I could do something good, that I could be a better man than my father ever was," he continues, only this time his voice sounds different, there is sadness instead of anger, and as much as he tries to hide it, there is also fear in him. "I know I did something good. I mean I saved you. _You!_ The most wonderful ghoul I could ever meet. But now, I don't feel like am any better…" Keith finally looks at her, and the second their eyes meet, Clawdeen sees a tear in his eye… and a fear like she has never seen. "I don't — I won't ever regret saving you, but I killed a man, and I don't regret it either. I always thought I couldn't do it, but I did it so easily and I enjoyed it! I could have aimed for the legs, blow his knees, but I didn't, I amied for his heart and I never felt more alive than when I saw his lifeless body hit the floor, and that's what scares me! I… I know how the brain works, the rush I felt was all because of the adrenaline from the moment, and — and I know that's how everyone feels whenever they kill somebody for the first time. The adrenaline, the high, and there are some who get lost in it, they get addicted to it and — killing becomes their drug!" Keith explains. "And when they get over their first high, they want more so they kill again to feel the same rush, but is never as fun the second time, so they try to top it to get the same feeling, to get higher, but all they get is themselves trapped in a vicious circle, only is not a circle, is a spiral. A self-destructive spiral that only goes down until you hit the bottom like a fucking corpse full of holes! And I don't want that."

And for the first time in years he cries.

Clawdeen looks at him in shock.

The look of desppair in his eyes is unlike anything she has ever seen. "Keith, I… didn't know you — I never thought you could feel that way. Have you told anybody about this?"

"Who am I going to talk to, Clawdeen? Our councellor Mr. D'eath? He is Death!" He snaps. "Best advice he could give me is to embrace my inner darkness and keep killing. He'd probably be like: 'This feeling is like a hangover, if you want it to stop you gotta keep you get used to it, or kill yourself. I've known plenty of people for whom it worked wonders.' Or maybe I should tell my parents, that would go so well. 'Hi dad, just so you know I killed a man last week, I'm feeling kinda happy about it, is that good?' That would be perffect! I can already see him saying: 'Well, let's see how you fuck this up too' with his stupid cigarret in his hand. He was right all along, I'm nothing but the rotten fruit of a bad seed. I got no one who can help me… no one."

There is a short pause, a momet of silence in which she can't think what to say.

He was right, who could he talk to about this? Who could he confess he killed a man and he liked it? If there are any words that could make him feel better, she just doesn't ju know them. She knew it had to be harder for him, to have blood on his hands, but she never imagined he would feel this bad, so lost and fearful of himself. And she knows it is all her fault. If she hadn't insisted in coming in with them, probably he wouldn't have had to kill him.

Clawdeen rests a hand on Keith's arm. The contact seems to both startle and captivate Keith who leans onto her only so slightly that she couldn't notice.

Clawdeen came looking to talk to him because she felt she needed to see him, never imagining how much he needed her. This fear is what she feels everyday, is what all werewolves must live with, afraid of themselves, of their inner darkness. Afraid that the beast would take over them. She knows this feeling far too well, better now since that night, and she knows she is the only one who can help him.

"You're not alone, you still got me, we're friends now." Clawdeen declares with such tenderness like he hasn't seen in years, reaching for his hand before making a bold promise. "As long as I am around, you're never alone. I know how you feel, and I can help you with it. I will never let you down."

At the sound of these words Keith gazes at her as though he were admiring an art piece, arrested by her beauty, but confused altogether.

"Are you aware… the next time I hurt somebody… it could be you?"

"If you truly _care_ for me, then you won't hurt me." Clawdeen reasons.

A smile draws on both their faces, their hands holding tight, fingers linked.

"I do… a lot."

"Then I got nothing to fear. We can face it all together," states firmly. Clawdeen places her right hand on Keith's cheek, drawing him in, holding his face so-very kindly, her voice sounds quiet, intimate the way only a lover could, so intimate it would have been shocking for anyone else; he longs for this moment to continue. "I know there is a good man inside you and I won't let him die."

Every now and then, very, very seldomly, when Rochelle takes a shower, she remembers how in her old bathroom back in Scaris there was a mirror in her shower, actually the mirror still stands in there, as in literally inside the shower. It was not hers, it was from the previous owner, and she always wanted to get rid of it as it is disturbing to watch yourself in a mirror as you shower; she always believed whoever left it there had an unhealthy obssesion with her or his appeareance, but in a gargoyle family changes come at the speed of politics. Now her mirror is outside the shower and is not really hers since she shares the bathroom with Robecca Steam, that adorable steampunker who always moistens the mirror whenever she showers. She is a robot, shouldn't she stay away from the watter?! She never understood why does she spend so much time there as though she were a real ghoul (pun intended); but the mirror in that shower taught her a valuable lesson: beauty can be dangerous. At times she thought maybe the mirror was a warning to never become obsessed with the way you look, and now when she sees herself in one, she does it with modesty. She knows she is boo-tiful, but she knows that valuing her look so much may lead to bad and weird choices such as looking at yourself while you shower.

Today as she gazes at the mirror, she thinks of how others see her, for most people — guys and some ghouls, all there is to her is her so slowly aging beauty and the snarling overprotecting attitude, but for those who see deeper than skin there is much more of her than just endless good looks and pink locks. There is a loving soul, caring and sensitive and loyal to death, yet brave and fierce, though as diamond, willing to sacrifice evertying for those she lvoes. But if you could see inside her today, you would see, just as she does, that she is broken.

Her body might be unblemished, but her scars run deep inside her soul. Much like Clawdeen and Keith, she fears the dark now, she fears this is not over even though she saw the man who brought her and her friends so much pain die and fall next to her. She was there when Devon and Keith burned the body, she helped set the pyre, saw the body burn, yet she still fears him, she can feel him haunting her, laughing at her.

Why can't she get rid of this feeling?! Why is she still so fearful?

Is this the price for doing the right thing? What do I even have to feel bad about? He was a horrible man! Didn't even deserved to be called a man! And he is dead! Get it!? DEAD! Just stop being so afraid of nothing! She tells to herself. Look at yourself! So afraid you jump away from the shadows.

And she is right, the man is dead, her friends are safe, so why would she be afraid? What does she have to regret?

She — they did the right thing… right?

It had to be. It has to be the right thing… right?

She always wanted to protect others, specially those she loves, but now a small part of her questions if the price is worth it. She would die for her ghoulfriends any day, that will never change, but what they had to do that night, could she ever go through that again? Can she go this? How long untill the fear dies?

If there is anything to save from this, is that at least now she has a better focus and sees things clearer. She wants the fear to go away, there is a pain inside her, but for as long as it's there she will use it.

Fear will be her fuel.

Fear will get her out of bed every day.

Fear will be her drive… her weapon of choice.

Fear will be her ally.

It doesn't matter if it pains, I have to — I must become stronger than this. I will never let my friends get hurt again.

Friends never came easy to him. He always envied, and will always envy Devon for that. For being the nice one of the two. Girls always preffered him, guys rarely picked on him at school. Whereas the very few friends he ever managed to make would always turn their back on him. Surprisingly, despite all his issues, or maybe even because of them, he actually got along better with monsters than humans, specially ghouls who were into normies; that is not to say he did any better than Devon, of course, but it was something. It is a surprise for most girls to find out almost all his ex-girlfriends (who are not that many) are in fact ghouls. But even then, his relationships rarely end up well, or long. Thus he learned to never open himself up to people no matter their kind. To shut them out — reject them before they reject him, and yet when he got to Monster High, he tought maybe this time it would be different, so he allowed himself to let people in, assuming they would approach him in the first place. He wanted things to be different, and for a moment he thought maybe it would be, but even he admits to himself every once in a while he is wrong about things. Which is why he is not surprised to see Scarah running away from him all week whenver she sees him. Then again, how could she not fear him after she saw him shoot down a man? She probably sees how much he enjoyed it.

Foolish of him to think they could ever be friends.

 _O' death… oooh… O' death… My name is death and the end is near…_

 _I gotta a new ringtone,_ he tihnks.

It is a text from Scarah, he sees. Thinking of the Devil.

 **TO: Kieth FROM: Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:22 P.M.

Hi. Are you ok? I've been told you moved in one of the school's rooms,

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:22 P.M.

What? Now u know am gonna be here 24/7 so u decide to talk to me again?

 **TO: Kieth FROM: Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:22 P.M.

Well, that's a little hurtful but fair

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M.

I know haven't acted as a good friend lately. I'm sorry for that

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M.

U HAVEN'T EVEN LOOKED AT ME THIS WHOLE WEEK!

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M.

and now u txt me to say what?

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M.

am sorry I couldn't wave my hand to say Hi whenever u walk next to me

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M.

I AM SORRY!

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M

I just can't be around you. Not now anyway

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M.

what the HELL is that supossed to mean?

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:23 P.M

I know u're affraid for what you did and I wanna help you, but I can't

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M

when am close to you i can feel your pain and your fear. and i really wish i could help you

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M

but being around you hurts me

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M.

so now my pressence hurts you? well that's new

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:24 P.M.

then please don't get anywhere near me

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:25 P.M

that is so unfair!

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:25 P.M

I can't help to feel your pain, i know how you feel, and I know it's awful. And i wish I could help make the pain go away

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:25 P.M

but I can't. Am sorry I can't be the friend you need me to be

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:26 P.M

I really wish I could be with you… to help you, but I just can't do it

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:28 P.M.

I also wish you were with me

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:29 P.M

maybe if I weren't so… me, maybe I could help you, but even then I don't suppose you would want me to erase your memories, would you?

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:31 P.M.

do u think it could help me?

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:32 P.M

maybe, but am not the best psychic in the bussiness. I don't have the power to erase such strong memory

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:32 P.M

and even if I could, that wouldn't change what truly bothers you

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:32 P.M.

you don't know that

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:33 P.M

am not even sure I did a good job with Nefera

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:33 P.M

even now I fear that her memories might come back

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:33 P.M.

U're right, u're useless

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:34 P.M

OK Now you are just being mean for fun.

 **TO: Kieth FROM Hot green Chick**

sep 28, 5:35 P.M

where are you now anyway?

 **TO: Hot green Chick FROM: Keith**

sep 28, 5:36 P.M.

Finishing some bussiness. C u around, darling. hopefully you won't c me

With that last text, he says good-bye to Scarah for the night, as he prepares to enter the place where it all started.

Staring at the door of the forgotten house, he takes a deep breathe as he tries to force himself into calm, a not so useful attempt to bundle the mixture of feelings boiling inside him.

"What did you mean by 'Thank you' you crazy motherfucker?"


	18. Chapter 18

XVII

29 September

08:15 A.M.

Monday again. First class of the day: Physical Deaducation, or as some call it: Gym.

As of today it's been already eight days since Frankie used almost all of her Spark to fight Unknown. Unlike the last time she used it, she was more careful not to run out of Spark — no, wait! No, no, hold on, no. That's not the word am looking for, she was reckless, totally, completely and utterly reckless. Then what's the word am looking for? _Lucky!_ That's the right word am looking for, she got lucky she didn't use all of her spark to fight Unknown, unlike the last time when she ended up killing herself to save her friends. And even though she's had plenty of time to recharge her Spark, she still feels the effects of using that much power. FIghting Unknown with her own life force surely took its toll on her, but hey, as she said to Ghoulia this morning "this tiredness-mixed-with-hangover feeling beats the Hell out of being dead again." Still, Frankie is sure that she would recover a lot faster if she had the recharge chamber they used to resurrect her last time, but sadly it is now destroyed as well as Robeccas' father's time teleporter and his whole workshop (thanks earthquakes for destroying underground workshop-labs with super awesome and impresive steampunk technology — now that's something you don't read everyday: the words steampunk and impressive in the same sentece without the words _is not_ in the middle. Actually I can feel how I burn a little inside… though perhaps is the reflux). Or maybe she just needs some lovely thoughts from her friends?

 _Is probably both_ , she thinks as she yawns during the warm up.

Today's class, for whatever reason: rock climbing.

Now, for that you'd need all your energy and focus, but she wasn't getting much of it today, as she did last week, and the Physical Deaducation teacher is not about giving her a free pass a second time in a row. If only she weren't asleep, she might be able to think of a good excuse, maybe PMS? Wait, her parents didn't put a utero inside her, thought it'd be troublesome so they decided she wouldn't have a womb until she'd be ready for it.

"STEIN!" he shouts, waking her up, startling her.

Igor, the PD teacher, is a man with a temper and one of the very few humans who can take pride in saying I teach at Monster High, loyal to the school as only an Igor can be. They have given him everything after all, they gave him a work when no other school would, they gave him a home and a family when he had none, acceptance when no human would — he was rejected, judged, feared and despised by his own kind due to his deformity, abandoned, yet Bloodgood would approach him and extended her hand in friendship, with an opportunity like no one had given him before, or ever will.

"Stein, wake up and get here!"

"Am coming," she yawns, slowly walking towards the teacher. "I'm coming."

"My, that must have been quite a dream you were having. Mine are never that good," Toralei, who happens to sit right behind her, sneers at her friends, the twin werecats Mewlody and Purrsephone. The laughter is almost instant.

Nice to see that having a godess insde her hasn't changed her a bit.

Yet she is so tired, that she just ignores her taunting.

"What is wrong with you? You've been slacking all week, sleeping at class," he begins scolding her like a child.

"I'm sorry. I just feel tired and I don't know why. I had a full charge this morning, but I just can't keep it."

"Well, you better fix whatever battery problem is it you got, or get a portable charger. Because this has to stop."

"I know. I just can't help it, ok?" Frankie protests, feeling a little more awake.

"You know what I think?"

"No, I can't sir. Scarah is the psychic. I just tease people with my hands." Frankie replies instantly. At least her sass hasn't left.

"Sassy already? Well, I was going to send you to the infirmary, but now your mind is awake enough to sass the teacher, I think is good enough to climb that rock wall, now!"

"Sure thing, sir." Frankie grumbled under her breath, glaring at the teacher. It was the voice he used that made her so angry. "Why do we even have to climb this stupid wall anyway? This is stupider than rope climbing," she mutters angrily, moving toward the wall.

"What was that?" Igor asks, taunting her to sass again.

"I said this is stupid!" She snaps as she puts on the safety equipment. A dark thought corsses her mind in that moment, _What if I just electrocute him? You know, by accident, we can't have gym class without the teacher_. Then she realizes what she just thought. _Don't do it, bad thoughts lead to bad decisions_ , she tells to herself. _Also we got an invisible spare teacher. Who thinks is a good idea to have an invisible PD teacher anyway? Not to be judging but who says he doesn't hide in our locker room? Never trust a man whose intentions are so conceited! Not even sure I know the real meaning of that word_.

"Ah — teacher, a little help!" Lagoona pleas, dangling from the roof as the catch of the day.

"What the Hell just happened?" Igor looks up trying to understand what his eyes are looking at.

"I don't know, I was getting up and now I am stuck here, and am getting dizzy."

"This is why I told her it was a bad idea. But no, the headmistress had to insist that changing rope climbing for rock climbing would be a nice change. Manny, Darkholme, Gooliope, help me get her down," he orders.

Following his intructions, Devon gets on Manny's shoulders, holding Lagoona by her hips, while Gooliope takes off the harness. Problem is she takes too long, and Devon is in a rather awkard position, with his hands around the hips of another guy's ghoulfriend, and a particular point of view that makes him deeply uncomfortable.

"Normally I would not complain about helping, but this is taking too long." Devon points out, trying not to look into her butt — and it is hard since is all he has in front of him. Only other option is to look down and that doesn't help much.

"Hey, at least you got a nice chick's butt to look at," Manny snarls.

" _OhmyGod!_ Are you looking at my butt?!" she asks.

"I'm trying no to, but is rather difficult since it is all I can see fom here. You are right in front of me and — stop moving!" says holding her tightly.

"Just look around."

"Sure, because looking down always helps when you try to keep your balance." He retorts.

"Then turn _me_ around."

"Good idea, let's turn you around, of course that would work! That would be a change for the best, right? Instead of staring at your behind, I'll be staring at your front, at waist level. Care to think that a second time?"

As suggested, she thinks a second time that idea and realizes it might not be the best course of action.

"You know what, you can stare at my butt-crack if you want."

"I don't want to," says getting a stinky eye from her. "I mean, is cute and all, but you're dating Gil, and well… it is awkward to look at someone else's ghoulfriend like this."

"Wait, so if I were single, you'd be fine with looking at my butt?" she asks.

"I never said that."

"That's the implication," she argues.

"Nevertheless, I never said that."

"Hey, would you knock it off!? I'm trying to take this thing off of you, and is hard if you are wriggling all over." Gooliope protests.

"Sorry." Lagoona apologizes.

"Just don't fart on my face." He drawls.

"What?"

"I think I got it." Gooliope says taking the safety off of Lagoona who would have hit the floor if not because Devon's strong hold on her.

Of course, this got them out of balance, and Manny almost drops Devon off his shoulders, if not for Gooliope who grabs them in time.

"Thank you," whispers Lagoona once she is on the floor.

"My pleasure." Dev says.

"Sure it was, that'd be the last you get that close."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"So next time I get to be the one holding you?" Manny asks.

"Yeah, there won't be a next time, bro," mutters Lagoona.

"You said you'd do it months ago! All the while am here waitin' for you tae break up your engament with her and nothing!" Lorna snaps so suddenly that she takes him by surprise.

He flinches unsure what to say.

"I know what I said, but I can't end it just like that. We've been together for years, so long — even if I don't love her the same way I used to do, I couldn't bear breaking her heart," he argues.

"And what aboot _me!?_ Don't you see you're breaking _ma_ heart?" Lorna asks, feeling the familiar tightness in her throat, the strangling pain that comes every time she thinks about their secret and what would happened if it were ever exposed. "Do you even _care_ aboot me at all? Have you ever meant it all those times you said you _love_ me? Or am I just another one of your conquests? One last big catch for you tae remember in all those years tae come! Or maybe I don't even get tae be that important, just another meaningless ghoul you took into your bed tae have a good time with fake promises of love? What, a memento of how great your life was for you tae enjoy in your most private moments," Lorna cries stomping at him, thick tears streaming down her cheeks.

"NO! You're more than that, you're everything to me, and I love you like I've never loved anybody. I would give my life for you," says behemently, holding her hands, his eyes staring deep into hers. "All I ask of you, is to be more patient, to wait just a little longer."

"I can't wait any longer, I've waited for too long, watchin' you walk around with her, hugging her, kissing her in front of everybody — in front of _me!_ While I have tae hide tae be with you. Can you imagine the pain I feel? Would you ask me tae wait for you ma entire life? Is that what you want?"

"I couldn't do that. I — I never meant to cause you pain."

"Well, that is all I feel, and is all thanks tae you! All you've given me is false gifts and broken promises! I can't wait for you any longer, either you tell her, or I will do it ma self." She cries this ultimatum in a dire tone.

And cut.

A brief moment of silence suddenly interrupted by cheers from a single man who is always watching while he is unwatched.

"BRAVO! That is a terrific performance, Lorna," Mr. Where shouts, clapping strongly at her, "unarguably the best and most convincing — the most believable performance I've seen in a long time, I daresay ever! I could feel the pain coming out of your words. Is almost as though you were not acting at all."

"Yea, well, what can I say? Had a lot of practice in the mirror." Lorna says cleaning her tears, putting up her best smile.

About time all the acting she's done around Lagoona and the other ghouls to pay off.

"And the tears, you make them come out so easily. I'm telling you, you're a natural," he continues. "No to mention I love your Scottish accent, it is to die for! Which… I could do, I'm not immortal."

"So… did I get the part?"

"Well, we're not having that many monsters casting for the play as I'd hoped," he points, looking around the screamatorium where the only monsters are him, Lorna, a few random guys and ghouls waiting for their turn and a meaningless vampire guy casting with her whose name I won't mention, "but even if we had, I'm pretty sure you still would be the best."

"Thanks." Lorna does a little courtesy.

"Of course, it seems we will have to wait a little longer than usual until we get the whole cast assembled so we can start with the production. But I don't see anyone else besting your performance. Just make sure you won't run out of tears for the play. Believe me it happens."

"I… will try not tae cry, sir."

With a large smile on her pretty, scaly face, she leaves the stage moving backstage, where Gil waits for her. Gil Webber, her secret and unofficial boyfriend, and Lagoona's official loverboy, if you believe what their Internet status says, who is left but astonished by her performance.

"That was awesome!" he announces with a big smile on his face.

"Gil, you came!" Lorna rushes to hug him, jumping into his arms, waving her long whip-like tail.

"I did. You wanted me to be here, and I couldn't miss it." Gil tightens the hug, caressing her red hair with such loveliness. "Ninety-nine percent sure you're gonna steal the show."

"Thank you. Means a lot tae me coming from you."

"Wanna grab some lunch? It'll be just the two of us, I promise."

"Sure. I could eat."

Carefully they sneak out to the soccer field where nobody really goes, because come on! Is scoccer! Nobody likes soccer, it sucks! Soccer is for suckers. So yes, this is one of the few open places where you can have lunch without prying eyes looking at you with whomever you shouldn't be, or simply eat alone if you don't like people.

Today's menu: seafood. Yes, I went for a pun there, not a very good pun, but yes they're having shrimps, made by Gil's mom for them, how nice is that?! She actually likes her better than Lagoona! After all she was there for Gil when they diagnosed her with cancer, being a real friend to him — to the family, and showing herself very caring and kind to her, simply a better daugther-in-law material. Blue's gotta get her act together if she wants to keep her boyfriend. She — she still wants to keep her boyfriend, right?

Who knows what's in that ghoul's mind these days.

"So how did you manage to get so good at acting?" he finally asks.

"By acting like there's nothing between us around others," she answers truthfully and with bitterness. This is not the answer he expected but is not surprised to hear it. "That's how I got the tears too. I just thought he was you and all the times you've made me cry. So basically I wasn't acting. Just let out my true feelings, is only an unhappy coincidence those lines would match perfectly how I feel and that the character I'm playing shares the same suffering as ma self."

Gil's smile drops. "Lorna… I…"

"I mean it Gil, I'm tired of hiding, and waitin' for you tae break up with her. I'm tired of keeping this — keeping _us_ a secret! I want people tae know me as your _ghoulfriend_ , not just your friend. Damn it, I've had dinner with your family more times than Lagoona can count! I even helped you mother cook last time! I want us to be real, not this farse we've become." Tears begin to pour from her eyes again, only this time she has no control, and with them comes again the same strangling pain that comes every time she thinks about Lagoona, and avoids to imagine what would happen if she ever finds out about her and Gil.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way."

"Does it?! Does it!? Why don't you man up and end things with one of us, instead of playing around going back and forth?" Lorna gnaws at him.

"I…" Gil struggles to find the words that could make this better just when the bell rings.

First time he is ever relieved to hear it.

"I gotta go to math. Good-bye Gil," says coldly, whipping her tears.

"I never did it with her," he says before she leaves.

"What?"

"I never slept with Lagoona. I lied when you asked me. I don't know why I did it. I guess that was so unexpected from you I couldn't think straight."

"And your first instinct was tae lie?"

"I guess it comes with being a cheater."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just… wanted you to know you were also my first, ever. That you are important to me, and that I _love_ you, I just need you to wait a little longer 'cause —"

"That is the thing. I'm done with the waiting, I don't think I can do it any longer. And I do nae care for what you've done with her, only what you're going tae do."

09:36 A.M.

The lunch bell rings and everyone floods out of the classrooms headed straight to the creepateria, craving for the food that their bodies need so badly.

 _How can they expect us to learn if we are not well fed?_

 _We can't focus with this hunger! We should get at least two lunch breaks._

Everyone marches as mindless automatons ready for their daily supply of food guided only by their instinct to consume and the conditioning that comes with this kind of place. If only the food here were really that pleasurable, yet is better than none, and while most spend the rest of their lunchtime fanging on the courtyards or the halls talking with their friends, one must head upstairs for a most awkward conversation with the most unfit staff member at Monster High.

"So tell me, is there anything you would like to talk about first?" Mr. D'eath, the school's counselor if you believe that, asks Devon, holding a notepad on his hand like an old school psychologist, staring at the young lad with perfect brown hair sitting in front of him. But on second thoughts, who better than him to talk troubled students away from suicide?

"Not really, you are the one who called me here," says leaning back on the divan. Even he had to admit this looks just like one of those lame demotivational posters from the Internet, and he was glad there is no one there to point it out.

"I brought you here because Mrs. Bloodgood asked me to have some sesions with you. I understand you've been through what could be considered a traumatic experience recently, and she worries about your emotional wellbeing — yours and your teammates' as well."

"She told you about —?"

"Unknown? Yes." Mr. D'eath drawls. "Don't worry, nothing will come out of this room, our sessions will have the same confidentiality as that of any expensive shrink, only you won't have to pay three-hundred dollars the hour."

"Okay, not that I don't appreciate this, but I don't need it. I am fine."

"Are you, now? You could have died that night, doesn't that unsettles you a little bit?"

"Not really, I knew the risks, and it was my choice to take it, I chose to do it. Besides, I cannot stay here an hour every day, I got classes to attend."

"It's ok, we can have these sessions during lunch break —"

"Yes — I am not spending my lunch breaks in here talking about something that does not really need any talking — nor I am coming after school." Dev insists strongly, but without being rude.

D'eath straightens his back. _Come on, you're the counselor, you have to act like it._

"You went into a serial killer's house, armed with what I assume is one of your father's guns that you took without his permission, I am sure, with your friend Keith, and then allowed your Safety Student Team partners and other few classmates to go in with you despite the dangers you were all fully aware of, and the Headmistress telling you to drop everything at once, and you think it doesn't need any talking? That sounds like suicidal to me, a real call for a attention."

"I'm not looking for attention, but when you put it like that, you make it sound bad."

"How did you even get her to hire you in the first place?" he asks, curious to hear how it happened.

"I might have… been there at her office the moment she said something about knowing some of her students would get involved into this mess and she wouldn't be able to protect them or stop them… And I might have siezed the opportunity to get my first case."

"So it was your idea?"

"I only said I was good with crimes and that I know how to the FBI works, hiring me was entirely her idea and decision."

"I love it when guys play the 'make her believe it's her idea' card," he laughs softly. "But I still can't see why would you go to such lenghts. Is the burning desire to become a detective so strong that it comsumes every ounce of rationality in your mind and smokes your judgement, even to the point of endangering others?"

"Well what can I tell you. I am a teenager, even one as smart as I, will do stupid things from time to time. That only proves that despite my brains, I am just like any other guy, prone to act rashly from time to time —"

"So, not a modest guy, at least not when it comes to your intelligence," D'eath writes down, oblivious to his argument.

"— am not the only one. Just look at Keith! …Although maybe he is not a good example."

"I have, not looking well."

Devon ignores him. "You probably met a few guys like that in your days," says hiding very well the intention of _teasing_ him. Despite the lack of muscular tissue to flinch and contract, despite the complete lack of microexpressions on the fleshless face of Mr. D'eath, Devon can see it works. Now this is uncomfortable for both of them. "Besides, the ghouls went there on their own, I didn't bring them with me nor I forced them to stay."

"You were pretty much playing the FBI out there. And I can only assume you went in looking to _kill_ him rather than just arresting him." D'eath cuts him off.

"Have you ever heard about citizen arrest?"

"Yes… but not every citizen is tasked with an investigation that he is not allowed to perform in the first place, or actively seeks the house of a murderer. Yes, we know you lied about the P.I. license and your age."

"She knew?"

"She didn't notice you lied at first, but after a few days, she thought of checking your profile again. She decided to look the other way since you had made more progress than the police, never thought you'd go looking for him armed with a Glock .45 though."

"It was actually a Colt .45." Devon corrects him.

"I knew it was one of those," says tapping his notebook. "So… need I continue the recap or will you tell me why would you do that?"

"I just… needed to finish the job. I had to stop him, I had to _do_ something before it was too late."

" _Hmm_ … You _hadto do something_. Why?"

"Because I knew who he was and where he was, and the cops were not going to do aything because sadly he was one of those very few cases where the killer is actually smarter than them, so… it was up to _me_. Hell, even if he hadn't been that smart, most serial killers are never caught through hard work, but rather just dumb luck! Ask any detective."

"I see… but why would you feel that way?" He insists. "Why would you decide it was up to _you_?"

Devon mulls upon this one, he knows the answer! He _does!_ Is right there at the tip of his tongue."…Tell me something, if you live in a world you don't like where everything is unfair, and the only way to change it is by doing something dastric because only drastic _actions_ can bring then drastic _changes_ needed for the world to be a _better_ place — the place it should be, isn't then your _responsibility_ to do it?" Mr. D'eath stares at him mildly confused and surprised. "If the world you live in isn't the world you want, and you have the _chance_ and the _power_ to make it anew — one that is better for you and everyone in it— aren't you then the _one_ to do it?" Devon says in such a passionate way, it almost seems for a second he was possessed by somebody else. "I believe the answer is always _yes_ , and the best way to do so is by getting rid of people like Richard. So yes, it was up to _me_ to do it, and I would do it a thousand times over if that means the world would be a better and safer place."

Mr. D'eath pauses for a moment, then spouts "Why dragging Keith on this then? If only _you_ were able to do it…?"

Devon takes a deep breathe.

"Fine! Maybe I couldn't really do it all by myself. I… needed him for this. Me and Kieth, we always did our best work together. Although we never expected the ghouls to follow us. It was supposed to be just _us_ , and it was never meant to end like that…" Devon stops for a long time. "What he did… he should not feel guilty for it, it was all my fault. I should have planned things better," he admits with a dire tone.

"Let's talk about the consequences of your… rash behavior."

Devon pauses for a longer moment, this is what he wanted to avoid the most. To think about how horrible things went down that night makes him feel like a cinder block drops on his chest. But as much as he dislikes it, he has to abide.

The pause grows longer, wrapping its fingers around them, an uncomfortable feeling seeping between them.

"You went in with the best of intentions, and look what happened," he breaks the silence, "your new friends get hurt, and your best and oldest friend has blood on his hands now. That is something you can never wash off. Now, this will sound like a bad joke, but how does that make you feel?"

He never intended for any of the ghouls to get hurt, nor for his friend to become a murderer. But as they know very well, there is no turning back when you take a life. He has no idea of course, of the way it has affected Keith, he can only hope his friend remains as strong as he has always been, strong enough to bear a burden that he never meant for him.

"I feel guilty. He did something horrible, something he never wanted to do, something he should have never done and all because of me, because I pushed him there… I dragged him because I was selfish and I couldn't do it without him. I could… should have stopped him, or at least tried, but I _needed_ him there with me," says with an all eating guilt. "All because I hated Richard," he says with some venom in his voice. There was a thin delight in calling him by his real name and not the name he adopted for people to fear him. "I still hate him, but I feel pity for him. He was a good man once, but then he went through the worst anyone could suffer, and I understand why he wanted vengance, but he took the lives of innocent people and became everything he despised. He became a murder and a hunter. He didn't deserve what happened to him, but after all the things he did to innocent people, he didn't deserve to live either."

"Did you want to kill him? Is that why you went there?"

This question strikes a grim chord in his brain.

"I went there because I was arrogant, full of hubris. I was so full of my mission I thought I could finish it, but then again I was wrong. I allowed my ego to cloud my mind. And I brought my best friend down with me, I risked his life and the ghouls' to finish something _I_ started. Something I shouldn't have started in the first place," he admits and just at that moment, the bell rings, calling all students to their classes.

"Ha, just when things get intresting, it never fails," Mr. D'eath says with a string of derision and disappointment. "Now, I'm not very sure you would like to keep with these sessions."

"No. But I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Sorry, orders from above. I'll try to set an schedule for our next appointments, on the meantime think about what we just discussed, Mr. Darkholme."


	19. Chapter 19

XIX

 _She feels so helpless!_ Her mind hops from memory to memory, some from such a long time ago — lifetimes ago! — they were long forgotten, and now her mind feels like a whole different reality of ts own, different from the one she knows, the one she is use to, wandering through a memory that is no longer hers, a memory of searing hunger. A damp chill. Of being carried through snow… She strives to leave that place, leave that memory behind buried in the darkness where it belong, but she can't for she is too weak to fight it… And now she lost herself in an unfamiliar time and place, her own head has become a trap of its own making… blood chilling… hazed memories of a bitten neck, an ear piercing scream… blood squirting in the darkness, red droplets falling, marking a trail…

Ghost World, River of Souls.

Soul Reaper apprentice Styxx, soon to be Second Class Reaper, arrives on port to pick up a special client. Normally her father would handle this sort of things on his own due to the importance of this calling, but given that same reason, and how rare these calls are, he thought this might be a teachable moment, and the best way for her to learn how to handle this kind of costumers is by handling them herself. After all, she would be taking care of business soon and she won't have her father with her to do all the heavy lifting, and even if he could, he wouldn't. What kind of Grim Reaper would she be if her father hovered over her shoulder to tell her what to do all the time? Not a good one. Today she would learn a valuable lesson about being a Soul Reaper, that is not everything is as easy and simple as ferrying the souls of the departed from point A to point B along the river. Some clients _request_ for a more _personal_ service.

 _What kind of costumer is that, anyway?_ Styxx asks herself as she squints for this special client. _And what does it look like? Hmm, well I suppose I'll know when I see it._

And there he is, standing at the ducks, wearing a black cloak that looks every bit ghostly, the ragged hem at the bottom that drags along the floor, almost drifting, and the chain around the waist sealed the deal, his face covered under a hood even bigger the her own, how could he see with such a big hood over the head she couldn't figure out. The mostly translucent body glowing eerily, reflecting the many colors beamed from the river and the auroras that linger above them as clouds do in the Monster World.

10:04 A.M.

"I knew coming to the infirmary was a waste of time, like they can do anything about a burn out Spark," Frankie snarls angrily as she stalks off the infirmary. "All I need is to charge up my spark like the last time, and I doubt they'll even get a car battery and charger cables in the first aid kit," says as though she actually had somebody next to her, ignoring the angry sparks jolting out of her neck as she walks toward her locker.

Spinning the dial: 6 right, 13 left, 23 right, 66 left, she opens her coffin-shapped locker and grabs her History book.

Because being drowsy all day isn't bad enough, now she has to take the most boring class. This makes her neck screws jolt even more.

"Oh my, watch out the firework, Frankie," Clawdeen says carefully approaching her from behind with Rochelle.

"What?" Is then when Frankie realizes she has been jolting out of control, and quickly tries to calm herself. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing it."

"You've ben doing that a lot lately, almost as much as drooling, are you sure you're ok?" Clawdeen inquires with concern in her voice.

"I'm fine, why does everyone think there is something wrong with me?" Frankie replies rather upset.

"Because there seems to be something wrong with you," she points out. "You've been sleeping all week at class, you've been jolting a lot lately, and you've been very cranky."

"You would also be cranky if you ran out of energy after only three hours of use like one of those first generation MP3's."

"What?"

"Nevermind. But you're right, I've been so tired these days, I can't stay focused, I can't think straight, I've been slacking in all my classes, even the ones I actually like — and you'd be cranky too if you had to work with Toralei again! I don't know why I keep running out of energy so fast, but now because of that, I fell asleep at chemestry class last week and I got paired with her for an assigment that requires both of us to work together but she is as useless as a mud hole which means I'll be the one doing all the work, but I can't do it because I slept during the class and now I don't know what am I supposed to do!" Franky snaps abruptly, jolting sparks again. "Maybe I'm just under a lot of stress."

"Why didn't you ask us for help then? You could at least read our notes and know what you missed." Rochelle inquires.

"Were you not listening? I can't think straight, I didn't think of that because my mind is — I don't even know if I know the word am looking for."

"Maybe it has something to do with what you did with your Spark the other night," Clawdeen suggests in a murmur.

"You mean deep frying _that_ guy?" she asks barely caring if anyone heard.

"Yes, that," Clawdeen says in a lower voice, asking her to be more cautious.

"Geez, relax, is not like anyone is paying attention to us. Besides, they don't know who _that guy_ is."

Clawdeen sighs exasperatedly. "Just… be careful with your words when we are at school."

"Whatever, I doubt it has anything to do with it anyway. I mean, is not the first time I used all my energy. Hell, this time I didn't even burn all my Spark." Frankie argues. "Last time I did it I _died_ but then you charged me up and got back better than new —"

"After the whole school did that weird thing where they had lovely thoughts about you, or something, to recharge your Spark." Clawdeen points.

"And this time we didn't have to do any of that. I'm sure am fine — I'll be fine, I probably just need a new charging chamber. Maybe Ghoulia can help me with that. Now, on a new subject, how are the plans for the intervention?"

"Slower than I'd like to, Bloodgood wants her parents to be part of it — at least online. Problem is she can't make contact with any of them. Apparently her dad's agent arranged a new schedule in the Ghost World. Hard to get good reception there so she can't call them. I'm guessing it'll have to be just us." Rochelle explains. "And is not like she's getting any better."

"Well, at least she isn't getting any worse," Clawdeen announces. "According to Robecca she hasn't been _that_ drunk again, but she's still drinking. I can't really blame her, though. I mean, D.J. died in her studio, she keeps telling herself it was all her fault for borrowing him her studio, that it should have been her who died and not him instead."

"Well, she shouldn't! That bastard would have killed him no matter what, because he was crazy." Frankie says. "I understand her pain better than any of you ghouls, but thinking she was responsible for his death or that it should have been her is just self-punishment."

"Care to tell her that?" Clawdeen sounds as they go up-stairs for HIstory.

Once in the classroom, Clawdeen and Frankie can't help but notice Keith's abssence. This is the second class he's missed today, something that worries Clawdeen.

"Have you seen Keith today?" Clawdeen inquires Frankie and Rochelle.

"Nope, haven't seen him all day. Actually I haven't seen him, nor Lala, or even Cleo. Wierd, isn't?" Frankie sounds.

"Cleo is at the hospital with Deuce. She wants to be there when he opens his eyes again, and Lala is… indisposed. I've gone to her place to bring her her homework and every time is her stepmom who opens the door," the werewolf girl explains.

Yes, another good thing for the ghouls. Now they found Deuce's eyes in the basement where Dick plucked them out, Frankie's parents could finally perform the surgery necessary to put them back. No need for donners list. Those things kill more lives than they can save.

What? I — I didn't tell you they found his eyes in the house? I thought I did in the last chapter, no wait! I didn't! I was saving that for later! Oh, can you believe that? I was going to open with that, and I didn't, silly me. This here is my silly face, you can't see it 'cause I can't draw it, but you can imagine it now. So the guys find the eyes in a canister floating in some weird liquid, like in every old school mad lab with body parts floating in a jar, and they compell Nefera to give them back to Deuce at the hospital.

"What coming from him isn't weird?" the gargoyle asks with faint derision. "Hell, I think ditching classes is the most normal thing he's done ever since he got here."

"Yeah, but he hasn't ditched or skipped class not even once." Frankie explains.

"Exactly, see my point? Who does that?"

"That is precisely why is so weird he's missing." Clawdeen retorts. "He never does this, despite all his… perks, he truly cares for his education… and the chance to prove he's the smartest guy in the room."

"Ok then, have you checked his new room? Maybe he's passed out." Rochelle suggests.

"No, I… already checked." The ghouls give her a confused look like asking What? "Well, I had to rule that out first."

"Then why don't you call him?" Frankie suggests.

"I don't have a phone anymore, my parents grounded the me old school way."

"Why are you so worried anyway? Just 'cause he's missing a few classes, does not mean he's in trouble." Frankie points out.

"I… got my reasons," says looking prone at her book.

"Do you, now?" Frankie throws a sly grin at her. "And _why_ would that be?"

"'Cause he's a friend — we're friends now, and that's what _we_ do, we worry about our friends. Sometimes, more than it's reasonable."

" _Hmm_. Keith _c'est un ami?_ Ha-ah _Un ami?_ Yeah right." Rochelle laughs.

"We _are_ friends," she insists strongly.

"Not saying you're not," says Rochelle defensively.

"Of course not." Frankie interjects."She's saying maybe you're a _little more_ than friends."

" _Non_ , I'm saying she'd _love_ to be a little more than friends." Rochelle continues teasingly.

"What do you mean with that?!" Clawdeen bristles. She doesn't like it when other people speculate about her feelings, especially when they guess right.

"Sweettie, are we really playing this game?" Rochelle ponds at her.

"We're just friends."

"So you wouldn't mind at all if I asked him out in a date?" Frankie inquiries.

The sole idea of it truly made her feel flustered, but she wouldn't let her friends now that, even though it might be a little childish.

"Hmn, you can try," says with the best fake lack of interest."I'd be surprised if you ask him out and he says yes, that would be a shocker."

"Ok, I'm gonna pretend that's not an insult." Frankie adds quickly with a peeved look.

"Translation: she's _jealous_ , alright." Goyle taunts her again.

"No, I'm not."

"Well, I think I'll give a shot," states with a smirk on her pretty mint green face.

"Go ahead, I don't care," says keeping up her best poker face, "see how he likes a date with a girl who can't leave her room." The werewolf girl reminds her of their imposed long term state of seclusion.

"Not quite sure he would mind that. Having our first date in my room, just the two of us, surely he'll feel more comfortable than having a date at a public place."

"But I'm pretty sure your parents wouldn't."

"My, you're so jealous, you're already sabotaging my date before I ask him."

"I'm not jealous!" she frowns a little, her friends laugh softly. "Look, I'm just worried 'cause he's been… distraught these days."

And just like that the gleeful mood of the conversation fades away, and the air arround them drops heavy; somehow the ghouls knew what she meant, as if they were reading her mind.

"He isn't taking it well, is he?" Rochelle asks as Mr. Rotter enters the classroom.

"No, he is… conflicted for what he did. Doesn't really know how to cope with it or who to go for help." Clawdeen explains.

"I guess he is not as bad as we tought. But that's… that's a god thing, right?" Frankie asks.

"Well yeah! Last thing we'd want is a student who is a borderline psycho, but he… is complicated," she sighs, remembering his confession.

"Good morning claass," Mr. Rotter begins. "I hope you all have read chapter three of your textbook as I asked you last week. Today we'll discuss the Jian Xi-Oni Wars during the World War II."

As soon as he began speaking, the ghouls quit the talking and tried to focus on the class.

Even Clawdeen had to admit that today's class would have been moderatly intresting if it were not for two big issues: the first being Mr. Rotter himself and his knack for turning everything, even the kind of history that would make for a decent (and animesque) movie she might actually watch… in the right company, into the most tedious class ever, and the second one is her inability to get Keith out of her mind.

More than once her thoughts wandered for minutes, worried about him, wondering why would he skip school today considering he lives here now, and what in the heavens is he doing right now?

She ponders these questions, staring at the window, absentmindedly, soon becoming enthralled by the fluttering of a crow nesting on a three that had lost almost all of its leafs. The fall would end soon. _Winter is coming._ The only moment she stops thinking about him is to wonder whether crows go South for the winter like ducks, and even then her mind spins back thinking _Maybe Keith knows that, he is such a smarty-pants after all. Smarter than anyone I've ever met since Ghoulia… Kinda like that. And he said he had a raven once._

Her trance only broken by Mr. Rotter's loud berating when he noticed her looking outside the window and not listening to him. In fact she had to ask Rochelle her notebook to copy the entire class as she hadn't a single note.

But even then, she couldn't really care for what she writes. Barely, she realizes the bell is ringing.

"Very well class, I'll see you on Wednesday and remember I wan't an essay with no less than three-thousand words on the cause and effects of the Troll Wars, no excuses. Devon, may I have word with you before you leave?"

"Sure, sir," says as if he had another choice whilst the rest of the class exits the classroom. "Is there a problem?"

"I was wondering the same. Couldn't help to notice the absence of your friend Kieth."

"So you noticed."

"When one of the very _few_ students that gives me a right answer whenever I make a question is missing, I _do_ notice. Specially since he has no excuse now he has an indoor room in the school. So, is he ok?"

"I've wondered that since the day I met him. Don't worry sir, wherever he is, he must have a good reason to miss class. I'll make sure he knows what today's assaigment was."

"Good, I was getting used to have more than one student who actually earns A's. Such an oddity the two of you."

 _I did it again_ , she remembers. _I should have done something, but I failed them. My fear, my weakness — I was useless to save my friends again._ In these moments, when the guilt overwhelms her, and images of the people who would — or rather could — die because of her fill her mind, Draculaura craves the blood. It doesn't make any sense. Drinking blood had given her strength, but it had also clouded her judgment.

It had made her hurt people, turn her back on those who trusted her the most, those who _loved_ her, she pushed away the only person who could ever truly understand her‟situation. Despite all of that, Draculaura craves it for one simple reason: it makes her feel powerful.

But the high always fades away.

Now her thoughts are a mess in an endless flurry of memories that she couldn't piece together. And the pain of a child to whom she is utterly strange.

 _Who are you?_ Lala asks in a silent scream.

A pain that galled her. Each chest-shattering cough reverberating though her petite body… spouting more blood… she sees the poor agonizing child mounting a staircase… It is warmer now. The silver light of the moon was gone. Warm orange flickers guided them. She was placed on a bed. The sheets, once satiny and smooth, now soaked in perspiration. Her mother, now gaunt, moaning beside her, asking to see Laura… _I_ _'_ _m here, Mama_ , she wanted to say, but it was too hard to speak…

 _Stop this! I don't know who you are and I don't care! I don't like this!_

Dracula insisting Laura was right there… she must have been the most beautiful woman, but there was barely any of it now…

 _I don't want to see your past… I dont want to see your life…_ Lala insists…

A struggling breath, she reaches for her daugther… Bone-aching exhaustion… hearing her mother's final gasp for air… silently begging her not to go… _I_

 _don't want your pain!_ …

Dracula racing into the room… calling her mother's name… _Alina_ _…_ _Alina_ _…_ _Alina_ _…_ pulling her to him, as if she was more than just his housekeeper… as if he was less than Romanian royalty.

 _No, no! Why do I see this? That's not my mother! Do… do I have a mother?_

 _Yes! I had a mother once, and a real name_ _—_ _so long ago, I cannot remember!_

 _…_ _She was Camila! … my mother was Camila_ _…_

 _Camila? Who was she…?_

A doctor announcing it was too late… Dracula's shoulders shaking… saying he wished he could have saved her, wished the snow hadn't kept him from her… The doctor saying the girl didn't have much longer… Dracula leaning over her… wiping her sweat-drenched hair aside… An excruciating stab in her neck… paralyzing pressure… darkness… and then a new day. Her strength was back. But her mother was gone. And for some reason, all she could think about was sinking her odd-shaped teeth into a slab of raw steak.

Lala blinked back tears and rolled her face on her velvet . Whoever that child was, she doesn't want to know.

 _OK, remember what your father told you, this is a big assignment, the one we can't afford to miss or mess so don't screw up_ , Styxx tells herself as her costumer goes aboard her ship.

"So, I suppose you are the one who called for a ferry to the Underworld?" He answers only in a hiss. "Well, welcome aboard, as you know we require some payment first, currency is the fuel of this boat, well not literally, but it is very expensive to maintain — we're still better than a cab though," she adds quickly. "Trust me, you wouldn't believe the prices they got on this side, they're to die all over again, specially if they a gotta take the Highway to Hell!" She adds jocularly. _Way to go, you're blowing it!_ "Ok, so strictly business then, uh, but first the… payment I told you about," she asks in a shy tone.

Slowly, the figure standing before her, which she couldn't really sort whether is a man or a woman, reaches for the pocket and pulls out something round and pointy that is clearly made out of gold. A medallion that is one of a kind, too big to fit in a mouth without choking anyone, shaped as a Sun with several points around the edge and a large skull on both sides, with the mouth open on one, and closed on the other. Such is the value of this token that all would-be Soul Reapers learn about it even before they learn how to wield a scythe.

"Well, with something like that in your pockets you could as well buy the whole boat, but you don't strike me as the kind of… whatever you are, that would have much used for party boat. Now, where in this vast river do you want to go?"

"I am looking for somebody," the hooded figure speaks with a vibrating voice. Its deep voice sounded like an amalgam of many voices, forced through its throat.

Styxx stares in shock for a while, genuinely scared of whoever or whatever her costumer is, but she quickly overcomes the initial shock. "Sure thing, just tell me who and we're good to go." Says putting her best poker face, it would be a lot easier if her hood weren't transparent, with a non-seethrough hood on her head she could hide her face the same way, but then she wouldn't be able to see the road.

03:17 P.M.

"So you haven't seen him either?" Clawdeen inquires.

"No. Don't worry, he does this from time to time. He goes awol whenever he feels like it. Is sort of his thing, you'll get use to it." Devon explains her.

"Okay… just, let me know if anything happens."

"Hey, take it from me, he is ok, I know him for a long time, when he goes missing like this, he is usually doing something stupid, but never dangerous… so dangerous that requires worrying that much about him"

"Yeah, well… if you say so."

"You ghouls need a ride?" He asks.

"Thanks, but we'll walk. We also gotta go see Lala. Now the streets are safe again… Also we gotta go check on Lala." Frankie says.

"You repeated that. She's repeating things, is she ok?" Devon turns to Clawdeen.

"So says she," she claims.

"Alright then, just don't take a catnap on the cement."

"Worry not," says with an over-friendly smile. "I got this one to keep me up."

"Ok, see you tomorrow then."

Pushing the button on the door, he closes the window of his Camaro.

A sly grin draws on his lips, _Gotta admit ever since Kiki got here he's been killing it with the ladies_ , he thinks. _Maybe that was a poor choice of words, but at least something good came out of all this._ And what a coincidence it turns out, if there is ever such a thing with Keith, that he texts him at the very moment he drives away from school.

And what a dire message it is: SEE ME AT THE HOUSE. YOU KNOW WHICH ONE.

 _This can't be good,_ he thinks, hitting the gas and changing speed like O'Connor chased by Toleto.

The ghouls watch the black car drive away from the school's terrain in a rather daring maneuver ( _My, they're full of surprises_ ), then set on their own path to Draculaura's.

Frankie yawns thrice as they walked, and for a moment Clawdeen actually felt she would fall asleep on the sidewalk.

Almost half an hour later they finally reach the big thick double doors of the place Draculaura calls home, you know, the super bigass mansion, or s it a pocket-sized castle? City hall hasn't decided yet how to label it, it breaks a lot of construction laws, that's for sure. As they walked, they discussed why would Draculaura disappear for a week. Not even taking calls, not to her personal phone nor the house. It didn't take too much to realize it was because of her recent consumption of blood. The change she had when she drunk Keith's blood was quite… a shift in her personality. Never in a thousand years they could imagine drinking blood would have such effect on her. That it could turn sweet ol' Draculaura into _that_ ghoul.

In all the years they have met her, they have never seen her drink blood and more than once they wondered why, but they were too cautious to ask, that night they got a good idea as to why that would be.

Ramoanah, Draculaura's stepmother, opens the door. A tall, beautiful and imposing vampiress, always regal; there is not a time when they don't feel like they have to courtesy before her.

"Hello, sorry we still haven't learned how to courtesy yet," Frankie says.

"Hi, we're here for Lala," Clawdeen says nervously.

 _Damn! This woman is scary_. _So serious all the freaking time. Feel like she might scream off with her head at any time if I only as much as say a bad joke._

"Yes, I figure." Ramoanah says in a welcoming but somehow stern voice. "Please come in."

The house has no natural illumination as in any vampire house, instead they have heavy curtains on the windows that are mostly for esthetics and only opened at night.

"Clawdeen, Frankie, just the ghouls I needed to see," Dracula spouts walking into the living room.

"Hi, Mr. D," Clawdeen says with faint nervousness and discontent behind her voice; she could never feel fully comfortable around him. "Is Lala here?"

"Why, yes! Where else would she be?"

"Well, she hasn't been to class for a whole week now and we're worried about her. She —"

"She drank human blood, I know." He cuts her off, dropping all pretence at once.

"You know, of course you know."

"Of course I know! She is my daughter, she comes back home in the middle of the night with stronger shade of pink all over her and a whole shift in her personality, one that I haven't seen in ages and with the unmistakable smell of blood coming from her mouth and you expect me to be oblivious to it!?" Dracula snaps at them.

"He's right, that was stupid from us to believe he wouldn't. What were we thinking?" Frankie utters lackadaisically.

"I have no concerns as for what goes in your mind, why I do care about is about that night. I had expected her to recover so she would tell me what happened, but even though she is better, she refuses to utter a single word, so I have to ask you, tell me, what happened? Why after so many years of stubborn rejection for the traditional ways of a vampire, would she break her oath of drinking no more blood and come back home with so much blood in her system. Human of all kind!"

"OK, but first are you mad or happy? I can never tell the difference, the range of emotions you can show on your face is very limited going from angry to mad," Clawdeen says before Frankie can even formulate a word; for a second she believed Ramoanah had sneered at her remark. "Wasn't that what you wanted the most? Draculaura feeding with real blood?"

Dracula stares coldly nat at them. "We'll see."

Quickly Clawdeen makes up a story about a mugger that stays as close to the truth as possible without giving away what truly happened to them, ending with Lala biting the mugger's neck.

Dracula takes a deep breath and pushes back his anger.

The human blood she drank that night unlocked something deep within her, something that had been left there by Dracula, the Prime vampire, who could not save her mother, and marked her forever. That night Draculaura was the only one left alive. If you can call that alive. Or should I say a _life?_

Always dying but never really doing so, always in fear of herself, of her own nature, in fear of what she has become and what she could do.


	20. Chapter 20

XX

04:09 P.M.

Carefully, he pours the steaming hot ginger tea in the black teacups, adding sugar on them, two spoonfuls on the one meant for his visitor, and a lot more on his own, then adding honey and a splash of cold milk. He then takes his cup and sits on the leather covered chair opposite to Devon gesturing, inviting him to take his tea while he thinks of the best way to explain their current situation.

"Hot beverage is comandatory for when you got visit," explains with utmost innocence.

"The ghouls seemed worried about you, particularly Clawdeen," says grabbing his tea. He blows on his cup just to make sure it won't burn him and then drinks. "Tell me, should I be worried?"

"Did she now? How sweet? She is a real love." Keith announces, taking a sip. "And yes, you should be."

Drinking tea or coffee, with high amounts of sugar always makes Keith feel better, though he has to admit it was just not cutting it today.

Devi stares at him blankly.

"Okay. First of all explain to me what are you doing in Richard's house!? Is this really why you skipped school today?" He asks partially upset, partially flabbergasted at how comfortable he is in this place, making tea and acting as though it were _his_ house.

"Yes. I — I thought that was obvious."

"Unbelievable," he cocks his head. "Please, at least tell me you didn't spend the entire night here."

Keith stares at him in silence. "OK."

Devon gapes as he scratches his head, looking around the living room, trying to understand "What the Hell is wrong with you, man!?"

"What are you talking about?" He asks unable to see why his friend makes such a big fuss.

"You _killed_ the guy who lived here, a guy who was by the way, one of the worst serial killers in the last ten years, probably of our generation! And you think is a good idea to sleep where he slept?"

"Actually I used the guestroom, it was cleaner, a bit dusty, but apparently never used." He goes on like it was no big deal, but Devi is not the kind of guy who drops things easily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, then I guess that makes it all right!" Devon takes a deep breathe and forces himself to calm down. "I would believe you would avoid this place most of all due to all the bad that we have been through here."

"Yeah, well I had to come here." States, changing his calm voice.

"You _had_ to come to the house of a serial killer that… you killed? Why of all places would you have to come here?"

"Because it's haunting me!" He cries. "I couldn't sleep at the hole I had for home, and I surely couldn't sleep at school because I can't get him out of my mind, I can't stop thinking he is still there in the dark, lurking, just waiting for the moment to strike — and I don't known if I'm losing my mind 'cause I swear I can see him everywhere, so I came here because it was the only place I felt it made sense for me to be, I could…" _feel it calling to me…_ "…it is the only place I thought I could find answers."

"What answers?" Devon says, trying his best to understand him.

"The ones I wouldn't like… I… spent all night here, learning everything there was to learn about him. Did you… did you get to hear his final words?" Devon flinches. "He said _thank you_. He thanked _me_ for killing _him!_ So I had to come here and know why?"

"That sounds like a bad idea, brother, but I understand you," says comprehensively.

"Wanna know what I learned? Take a look around. All those pictures of him and his late wife, he never forgot who he was or why he hunted ASOME. He wouldn't let go of her, these pictures were the first thing he would see whenever he entered through that door as a constant reminder of why he did what he did. He never allowed his pain to fade not even a little. But more than that, I realized he was a lot more resourceful than we first imagined. And apparently has been on his Sorcerer's Apprentice gimmick for a lot longer."

"What do you mean with that?" Devon asks confused and truly afraid of the answer.

"Come with me and I'll show you." Says gravely, finishing his tea.

As they move upstairs, Devon notices that all curtains and windows are open.

"You lit up this place I see," asserts looking around then house which is a lot tidier than he first imagined that night; he strongly doubts Kiki would spend any time cleaning the place.

"Only as much as natural light can," says turning to the left. "I felt this place and I had seen too much darkness for a while."

"You also seem to know your way around the house."

"Well, is really not that hard. It's a very simple house, one kitchen, six rooms, five bathrooms — all functional, I checked myself. I… I think one of them was for a baby." Keith retorts with a faint trace of sorrow; Devon gives him an stunned look. "I… took the liberty of exploring the house last night. And I found this, I believe this room used to be his office," explains as he stops at the door next to the guestroom. "Fair warning, once a secret is known, it can never be unknown."

"Unless you erase my mind. Now, cut the ominous foreboding crap."

"Can't say I didn't warn you."

With his heart racing, he opens the door to reveal a room full of books, scrolls and papers with symbols, sigils, spells and incantations in many dead languages. Some in Latin, some in Celtic, but most of them were in languages so old he couldn't understand, even Ancient Aramaic.

"What the Hell am I looking at?" Asks in bewilderment.

"Is breathtaking at first, isn't?" Keith walks in, closely followed by Dev. "This is a compendium of magical knowledge like not even I have seen before, and there is still more down the basement and all the other rooms I've seen. It took me all night just to read every single book, every piece of paper in this room, and three diffent ancient language translator apps that apparently were designed by Oxford linguistic experts. I can't believe I had to resource to that," to think he needed such aid makes him feel like he burns inside a little, "luckily his Wi-Fi has no password. Now, at first I tought he was working on some other ritual, something to strike really hard at ASOME, some long lost and forgotten spell — a _curse_ to smite down all his enemies, but then I realized as I kept reading that this goes all the other way around. I kinda wish for those apps to be wrong — I kinda wish for _I_ to be worng."

"I don't get it, what was he doing here?" Devon asks confused, looking at a very old scroll with a very grotesque picture and a strange Latin incantation — no, not an incantation, an instruction, very detailed instruction.

"As we both know hunters use magic to fight monsters, or at least as much magic as humans can make use of, but he… what he has here goes beyond anything any hunter has ever even tried. Or at least I'd like to believe that," he says handing him a little black book. "His journal, in it he describes in lurid detail what his plans are. He was crafting a spell of his own concoction, mixing the elements of ancient spells and rituals, some others not so old, some other are even from this age; he mixed the parts that worked, adding some bits of his own," he explains with a deadly serious voice as Devon begins to read the sentences and pages Keith highlighted, terror brims in his eyes. "And for what I can tell he has studied magic even before he became known as Unknown, with _real witches_ , he… was their firend. They trusted him and taught him their ways, secrets they kept in their bloodline with deadly jealousy, that have been passed only from progenitor to child, from generation to generation… not _all_ of them, but some, that close was their relationship. Some of these shouldn't even be known or taught anymore; they were thought to be buried with the dead for hundreds if not thousands of years but apparently he was also close friend with an archeologist and curator at some museum that stumbled upon them in his search for the Tomb of Solomon and was able to lay eyes on them, long before he married. Is almost as if all of this was meant to happen, as though he was destined to become _this_. Wicked the ways the universe works."

"This can't be real," Devon says with dread in his voice, reading page after page.

"He spent years of his life among them, studying with the greats, mastering the intricacies of high witchcraft, as far as his body had the strength to pursue. And he took that knowledge, that sacred knowledge they entrusted him and perverted it into something else."

"What was he working?" Devon inquires afraid to know — refusing to _understand_ , to _believe_ what he's reading.

"I think is better if you read it by yourself."

"Tell me, ghouls, what do you know about _vegan_ vampires like Lala?" Dracula asks them in a very inquisitive tone, sounding almost as some sort of sinister and insidious game show host.

"I know they are not as strong as your average blood-fed vampire," Frankie says first, "and their diet comes with the rare side effect of _needing_ and being _able_ to eat any other kind of food since their metabolism becomes a little more human; usually anything that makes up for the _energy_ they don't consume. Anything with large amounts of it, and sadly vegetables don't cut it which is why she has such sweet teeth, they also have a need to consume high amounts of iron supplements to compensate for the iron they're not… getting from their… daily blood-shake dose." She stops when she sees the stunned look on their faces.

"That's right, Frankie. When a vampire refuses to drink the blood needed for _living_ , their metabolism changes, it _adapts_ to the _whims_ of the vampire and seeks to feed from other sources, whichever he or she has chosen, yet there are some things our bodies _need_ , even more so when we don't consume blood, like the iron. When a vampire decides to go _back_ to drinking blood, must be careful and do it with little sips everyday, slowly increasing the dose till their bodies adjust and become the vampires they _should be_ ," says trying to hide his contempt for the idea of a vampire not drinking blood. The girls notice. "That being said, Draculaura has lived for such a long time avoiding to feed on blood that when she consumed it again and in such a large amount, it was kind of a shock to her metabolism, which means that even though it was welcomed at first like an old friend, her body soon began to reject it since it couldn't, uh, _recognize_ it, we could say, and it caused a shock to her system. Her body doesn't really know what to do with the blood she drank anymore, and it has to learn, or rather remember how to process blood again. And while she does that, she can't be out again since she isn't at her best. You can think of it as when you try to get over a hangover that lasts for weeks."

"Oh, hangovers are the worst," Frankie says and promptly adds "uh, so I've heard."

"I don't think I get it," Clawdeen says with a confused look on her face.

"Is like when you stop eating for a long time, like when you're in a dessert for weeks without food. Your body usually takes energy from carbohydrates when you eat meat, fruits or veggies, but when you can't feed, your body begins to consume the fat and meat from itself, of which let's face it, you don't have much," Frankie explain with a mean grin getting a dirty look from her lupine friend, "when that happens your metabolism changes because it is consuming energy from your body's fat supplies, and when you consume real food again, carbohydrates and proteins, it is a complete shock to your system that's been feeding on itself for a while and well, bad things happen when you do that, anything since throwing up to, you know, dying."

"Smart ghoul," Ramoanah says.

"Thanks!" First time she throws her a compliment ever!

Yet Clawdeen is only more confused than before.

"What makes you believe I could possibly understand that?" She growls.

"Wanna know what? I'll tell Ghoulia to explain it to you tomorrow, sure she'll find a way for you to understand. On second thought she's the one who taught me that so maybe it won't help, maybe Keith can." Frankie throws a sly grin at her.

"Right, because that's how things work with _him_ , he _always_ finds the _rightwords_ ," she claims in a yeah-right! tone.

"He does with me," says innocently.

Clawdeen pauses for a moment and says "…well, sometimes. So that means she can't get any visits, for how long?"

"We'll have to wait and find out. She's is in a very sensitive spot right now and the presence of fresh blood won't help her."

"I don't have blood," Frankie retorts, getting a side look from Dracula, "but… if you say she can't see anyone, I'll just go then."

"Ok, I guess I'll just leave her homework with you again and… be on my way."

"Thank you, we appreciate you being such a good friend of our daughter," says Ramoanah.

The ghouls leave the small palace wondering when will they see their beloved friend again, with a bad feeling sinking in their chest.

"I don't like this, I don't like this, I don't like this!" Clawdeen spouts as soon as they're on the corner.

"Yeah, I don't like it either, but that's their nature, what you gonna do about it? If she hadn't drunk that blood she would be dead instead of just feeling crappy."

"Wait, so you actually bought that crap?"

"Clawdeen, he's not making things up, that's how vampire bodies work," insists Frankie with a yawn. "You can Google it."

Clawdeen sighs exasperatedly"Okay, maybe he's not lying about it, but why do I feel he's hiding something from us?"

"Because our recent experiences have driven you to a regular, but constantly growing state of paranoia?" Frankie spouts, getting a dirty look from her friend. "What? I feel paranoid now, like every time I turn the lights there's somebody watching, that in every corner there is someone who knows our secret, and next time I leave the shower I will find written in the fog of my mirror the words _I know what you did last week_."

Clawdeen stares at her in confusion, and a little worried for her. "Okay, I can only worry about so many things at the time. They're hiding something, and I'm sure it has everything to do with Lala drinking blood," growls Clawdeen. "If only we hadn't gone inside that house…"

"The guys would've died, Nefera would be dead and viral, and who knows who else would die because of him."

"So that's how it works? We save the world and in return we get to suffer?" asks with an air of disappointment.

"Well, that's what being a hero means, always saving others and getting hurt a little in return."

"I thought it meant going around in super sexy and skimpy outfits like a WWML. That's what they all do, right?"

"Not necessarily. Wardrobe is always more of a personal choice, we both know about that." Frankie smiles. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Next week she'll be back to school, and planning on her next hot date with Clawd to make up for all the ones they've missed so far, only for us to remind her that her father grounded her for a loooong time."

The wolf girl sighs, "I hope so."

The ghouls walk to their homes, hoping the best for her friend, never imagining that she is held in chains right beneath her back yard, in a cell made by her father just for her. A coffin bed in the middle of the room, and around it a ring of sunlight that seeps through the iron rooftop. The light casted around her coffin, which remains in a spotshadow wide enough for her to stretch her legs, prevents her from walking away, her skin now hypersensitive, burns upon the slightest contact with sunlight. It is the perfect prison… so long as weather is with you during the _day;_ for the night, the silver bars with verbena veins tangled around them shall suffice.

"Your friends came again," Dracula says, "this time the Wolf girl came Stein's daughter. They seem worried about you." He speaks to his daughter, but silence is the only answer, as though he had spoken to the wind.

"Just so you know, every time I ask you to go back to the proper ways of a vampire, I never meant for _this_. I honestly expected thing would be done… the right way. Baby steps, little sips, form a _blood bag_ , not a _neck_. They're good lairs too, by the way, your friends. Didn't hesitate in their story not even once, and it was very solid. But we know you didn't get mugged that night, your hand was forced into drinking blood, but is not as told and now you're back to _your_ old habits. …I won't make the same mistake as last time. This time, I will make sure to protect my daughter, you hear me?" Dracula states with fervor in his voice, yet Draculaura would not respond.

Two red glowing eyes stare at him from the dark spot inside the sunlight ring — no, not red, but rather a very, very _dark_ shade of pink, and whereas Dracula's eyes always seem cold and uncaring, these look at him with malice steaming from them, and a boundless desire to consume everything that falls within their sight.


	21. Chapter 21

XXI

4:24 P.M.

Gorgon House.

"Coming back home in a limo after getting my eyes surgically reattached is so not how I thought it would be." Deuce states. "Have I ever said how uncomfortable I feel in your family limo?" He inquires his beloved ghoulfriend Cleo.

"No, I don't think you ever have." says in a loving voice.

"I mean, I love limousines, but I always feel like your father might have cursed them specifically for me."

"He actually tried that once, but the amulet burned it." Cleo retorts amusingly. "Don't worry, you're safe now. That horrible man, if you can call _it_ a man, is dead," says reassuringly, holding his hand tightly.

"I still can't believe I got my own eyes back. And thanks to Nefera of all ghouls!" Deuce claims looking at his own reflection on the window.

"I wouldn't say it was thanks to her," Cleo says under her breathe. Even though she couldn't see everything that happened in the basement, she could piece all together and figure out it were her own friends who saved his precious eyes and her despicable sister from death.

"Frankie's parents are Damn good stitching eyes together. And with Neightan's healing horn is almost like nothing ever happened. Never thought I would see this place again," Deuce states with an air of both sorrow and joy feeling his chest. He got his eyes back, that's good, but he also lost two friends, two he will never see again.

"I miss them too," his ghoulfriend says, leaning onto his broad shoulders.

"He got what he deserved," declares coldly, staring blankly at the street. "I only wished I had done it myself." Now there is hatred burning in his voice.

"Deuce!" His mother, who sat with them all the way from the hospital, says aloud.

"What?! Am I supposed to not feel that way?" His eyes flash angrily behind his shades

"Son…" she begins, but stops and sighs realizing there was no point in this argument. "Come on, your whole family is waiting, your aunts, your cousin. They all wanna see you."

"You know, now I feel everything is an eyes pun."

Inside the house waiting for him, was all his family, something that rarely happens with the Gorgons. Nice to see all his aunts and his mom needed to talk again was for him to lose his eyes. Nothing like a good old Greek tragedy to bring family closer.

Not a second passed after he stepped inside the house when he hears: "Deuce!" shout out loud.

Viperine jumps gleefully at him, hugging her cousin as tightly as she can, kissing his forehead. "I'm so glad you're back! And whole," says cupping his face tightly, staring into his shades. "You're whole, right?"

"I am," says taking her hands off his face, and thanks for the warm welcoming." States hugging her back. "Sorry this forced you to come all the way from Hauntlywood just for me."

"Hey! Never say that again, we're family, and family always comes first, before anything. Just because we got snake blood in our veins, doesn't mean is cold."

"I guess you're right."

After his welcoming, they all sit to have dinner, and it must have been the first family reunion where his mom and aunts don't fight over stupid things that happened thousands of years ago. Naturally, Cleo ate with them, at this point she has become one of the family and Deuce's mother has wrapped her mind around the idea of having her as daughter-in-law. And also by the first time, his mother didn't make that awful Greek food he has come to loath, but instead made his favorites dishes, and they were to die for.

Is only during dessert that he realizes this is a glimpse of what future might hold the two of them, and says to himself… self: _The future is so bright, I'm glad I wear shades_.

3:34 P.M.

Monster High's Skultimate Roller Maze Track.

"All right. I'm psyched up, I've got oil up to my elbows, wires in my teeth and my helmet and kneepads securely fastened. Let's get out there and make trouble!" Robecca calls blatantly, ready for some action.

If she were asked whether she is an addict, she would have to say yes, with SRM being her drug of choice. Rochelle next to her, would say almost the same, only with the subtle difference saying that _adrenaline_ is her drug, something that would sound out of place for Robecca Steam to say, since she is a simulacrum — more precisely a robot powered by steam and one of the most powerful magical energies of all: the Spark, life force in its purest form, with love being its catalyst, thus… there really isn't much adrenaline running inside her when she plays, though she gets the same high as if she did.

 _So life-like. Is almost as if she were a real girl._

"Damn right I am." Rochelle announces, eager to practice the sport she loves so much, that runs in her blood. Uh, gargoyles have blood, don't they? Don't worry, I got a better one. The sport that is ingrained in her soul.

I am mostly certain that she has a soul.

"I dunno, I ain't really in the mood for some Roller Maze," Operetta says, reluctant to get in the maze.

"Ok, I will pretend you never said those words," Robecca says pulling her friend into the maze.

"Why don't you try to smile a little bit, ghoul? Deuce is leaving the hospital today, with his _own_ eyes back. I thought that would make happy, even just a little." Rochelle points.

"I am happy, but —"

"Come on, a round in maze always cheers you up." Robecca interjects.

"I know, it usually does, just… not feeling it right now," says looking prone, walking away from the maze.

Robecca glares at her, her gear-shaped irises rolling madly. In the last two weeks, she has tried her best to be a support for her friend, a shoulder for her to cry, to help her deal with her pain, to cope with her grief and naturally prevent her from getting drunk again, but so far, nothing has worked, mostly because she refuses the idea of trying to get over the pain she so stubbornly holds onto, and leave that stupid bottle, and this — this moment right here is when she reaches past her boiling point. It was her last desperate effort to bring a smile on her friend's face, even a fake one, but nothing.

She has never been one for quitting on something or _someone_ she loves, but law of averageness says one day or another she would quit at least once, and it breaks her — uh, let's say — heart so much that it happens to be presicely this day, and this way, with Operetta one the few she conciders her beast friends. But everyone, even a steampowered simulacrum like herself, has a limit, and this was it. _This is it, I can't put up with it anymore_.

"You know, I can only feel sorry for you for so long, before I get tired of watching you soaking and mopping for the death of D.J. This whole self-pitting and self-blaming Operetta act is making me — _argh_! Forget it! I don't know why I bother wasting my time with you, wasting all my energy to make you feel better when is clear all you want to do is getting yourself _wasted!_ " snaps suddenly in exasperation.

The always so proper, the always so polite, the always so kind and always so sweet steampunker loses her calm demeanor.

The ranting hits Operetta as unexpected and hard as an iron ball to the face, disguised with snow during winter, and for the first time, Robecca isn't the only ghoul steaming out of anger.

"Robecca!" Rochelle gasps.

"How can you say that?! You ain't got any idea what it's like —?"

"Yes. I. DO! I know what is it to lose people you love! I live there every goddamn day of my life!" Robecca shouts. For a moment, Operetta had forgotten that she has also lost people she loves, her _father_ of all people! "I know what it feels like — every waking moment is as if your whole life falls apart because you can't be with the ones who matter the world to you! Want to talk about pain? I lost my _father_ , the man who _built_ me and _raised_ me! The only family I have ever known. I woke up after almost two hundred years and he is nowhere to be seen, not even _alive_. I'm stuck in a time that is not my own. Almost everyone I knew is gone for good, I am lost in a strange time, _alone_ , and no one can relate to that! No one can understand _my_ pain, but you don't see me crying all the freaking time about it! Or getting drunk just to forget what it feels like, avoiding the pain with debauchery, because in case you haven't noticed, you can't kill feeling an with alcohol. I learned to live with it, like everyone else does and moved on. But not you, Operetta, the special phantom girl who has to suffer twice as everyone because _everything_ has to be a big goddamn drama with you! Right? Your life a big tragic opera!" Robecca bashes madly on Operetta, her words spout out of her mouth like fired from a machinegun, reality is her ammunition and each bullet is aimed perfectly, hitting in the right place: straight to the heart. "You are so self-centered. So focused on your own pain and think yourself so damn special, you honestly believe nobody can understand how you feel, and never, not even for a second, stop to realize you have a _wholelot_ of friends that want to help you cope with your loss, which by the way, is a shared loss. You think you're the only one of us who lost a friend? Somebody special? You only liked Holt, Frankie _loved_ Jackson and Holt, she lost two friends there like most of the guys did. But you…" she pauses and cries-laughs for a moment, "let me guess, you don't see them getting drunk as Hell, so that must mean they don't feel the same pain. Is that what you think?"

"That is not true!" Operetta cries, but Robecca ignores her.

 _It is sooo true!_

"Even worst, you're so blind, that you can't see all I have tried to do for the last two weeks, is to help you to deal with your pain and pull you from the self-destructive path on which you are so hellbent to walk. I, who am most familiar with your suffering, have tried to stop you from resourcing to something stupid as getting drunk and naked in a party again because I love you! We all love you, we are hurt to see you that way! Last time you made a striptease video, next time it could be —" she stops. Even in this state of anger, she couldn't say those words, to sole idea of it, shatters her heart. "You know what? If you really want to keep sinking in your misery then go ahead and do it, because I'm done trying to help someone who clearly doesn't want to be helped."

With those final words, she glides out of the maze, leaving a wake of steam behind her and an old friend lost.


	22. Chapter 22

XXII

3:47 P.M.

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood's office.

The most tedious part of her work as a headmistress has always been the paper work. Just to think of it just sucks her soul out of her. And she would gladly do it a thousand times over if it meant she would only have to worry about which parents are late in their bills and not if there is an serial killer on the loose.

Even though she doesn't have to worry about it anymore, she doesn't feel the way she expected, like she had won, but rather as though she had lost. In fact she lost her mind when she asked her students to be their own police, and look where that ended? Keith, one of the very few human students in Monster High, had to kill a man. _If only I had given him the goddamn room he asked for when he applied for this program,_ she thinks. _But if hadn't been him, then maybe it would have been Devon, or one of the ghouls, or maybe they all would have been sacrificed by now. I hate this, when did my unlife come to this? And what did I do to those kids!?_

Luckily for Bloodgood, her depressing thoughts are cut off by an unexpected visitor rapping at her door.

"Come in!"

And what a surprise it is for her to see Toralei walking through that door.

"Ms. Stripes, what brings you here? And what have you done with your hair this time?" asks bewildered, looking at the usually fiery hair of the werecat glowing golden, with a light of its own.

"Actually, she is not in right now," she speaks with a voice that is not her own.

"What? Wait a minute? I've seen this before, twice. You're a god, are you not? You're possessing one of my students!?"

"Well, why would I say no? Although I see it more as borrowing. She is the one who invited me in, much easier than manifesting myself or opening a portal to drag you in."

"What is it you want?" Bloodgood says coldly, putting the paperwork aside.

"My name is Veritas, goddess of truth, and I am here for a late application. See, I had word that you have got a recent vacant. A death student, a tragedy that is what it is, but also an opportunity."

"Opportunity?" For what?"

"For me to enroll my daughter in this school, of course —"

"Fine, what's the name of the child?" says with utmost indifference, just looking to finish this as soon as possible.

"I — uh, wait, what? Just like that?" she asks surprised it would be that easy. "I thought I would have talk you into accepting my child, since we're a little late in the semester."

"Yes, well this has been a stressful week, and I want to end with this as soon as possible," says taking out an inscription formula, and pressing the upper button of her pen. "And you seem like the kind who won't take a no for an answer, so: name and age of the ghoul."

"Technically she is a, goddess as I, but whatever."

4:16 P.M.

Monster Hugh's Green House.

"…and since you've been such a patient boy, I'll serve you a little extra, Chrissie." Venus says as she pours water on one of her favorite plants. "Ok, that's it for today, I guess. Now I suppose I have nothing else to procrastinate doing my homework. Oh, crap," she sighs realizing she has now no other choice but to do her Clawculus assignment which is dreadfully complicated. "I hate numbers so much."

Sensing her displeasure, one of her monster plants stretches a tendril to fondle her face.

"Thank you, Thulu, but I can only delay homework so much," says kindly pulling away from the tentacle-like tendril. "And is either doing it or not doing it, and I can't afford another low mark. Goodbye, sweeties!"

Sometimes she feels bad for leaving her plants under lock and key, but then she remembers last time she didn't, things got nastily out of hands. Headmistress made perfectly clear if it happened one more time she would be expelled.

While she is on her way to the door, she stumbles with her old friend Robecca, whose aura is just… in turmoil.

"Robecca, are you ok?" McFly inquires, worried about one of her closest friends.

"Oh, hi Venus. Uh… yes, I… I'm fine." Steam says with the most convincing voice she can make.

Not a very good one.

"You don't sound fine," she stares pointedly at her, "you don't look fine. And your aura is all a fuss, a sad and messy fuss. Would you like to talk about it?"

Robecca sighs, "I guess I better should."

And so, Robecca and Venus sit in the garden, next to the fountain, were Steam tells her friend all that happened earlier between her and Operetta.

"So all of it was because she wouldn't play SRM?"

"No! Have you not been listening? That was just the catalyst, the real reason is that I have tried my best with her to be a good ghoulfriend, I've done everything I could to help her with her grief — to keep her sobber! But she just wants to sink into that bottle and drawn in her misery, as if getting drunk ever takes away the pain."

"It does take away the pain, until it doesn't." Venus speaks, sounding as someone who has had a _close_ experience with alcoholism. Robecca looks at her a little confused. "I had a cousin with a similar predicament. It was hard for everyone, but eventually he was able to get over it. He didn't do it alone, though. None can. It takes a lot of help and strength, strength you usually get from those who love you, and if you don't have a family or friends to hold you up when you fall, you might never get back on track. Is really hard not to give up on yourself, when that same people gives up on you so easily."

"I haven't given up on her, I just… want her to wake up and see what she's doing to herself. The first step to overcome a problem is to admit you have it, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah."

"And so far she hasn't. She doesn't want to, and until she does and asks for the help she needs, I can't do anything else for her, I can't force her hand into it."

"Actually that's kinda what you have to do, force them to look at the reality of their behavior, hopefully your words will do the trick."

"Yeah, hopefully," Robecca says with a mournful tone. "But enough about that, tell me about you. We haven't had a real talk in so long, I dont know what's new in your life. I feel like I missed a whole season of my favorite show. How are you and Batsy doing?"

"Not quite sure on that," Venus sighs, with a look and a voice of somebody who is just waiting to hear the three words.

"Oh, sweetie, you so look like somebody who is in great need to talk, tell me what's wrong. Mommy Steam is here to listen."

Venus gives her a smirk. "You're right, if I don't talk to somebody soon, I will explode…"

Thus, it is turn for Venus to talk with Robecca about her problems with her _ghoulfriend_ Batsy Claro. Now, I think this is as clear as it can get, but just in case you haven't noticed already, when I say ghoulfriend I mean girlfriend.

Those two have been a couple form almost a year now, something that started as a friendship born from their mutual love for plants and nature, evolved and blossomed into something more beautiful, and sooner than not they were madly in love with each other. A beautiful friendship transmutated into a romance they never thought they would have; when they entered each other's life they transformed their world, and it was more wonderful than it had ever been. It was their secret the way they feel, a love so pure, a love that is so real it felt just perfect.

…Til it wasn't.

 _Damn, these ghouls just can't catch a break on the heartbreak!_

What was their problem, you ask? Simple, Venus came out of the closet long ago, she has always been open and honest about who she is, Batsy would not. It doesn't matter Monster High is a temple of tolerance, she just would not come out with her and say _She is my ghoulfriend._ She just isn't ready for it, and as you can imagine, that has laid a lot of strain on their relationship.

"…I don't know, I guess I might be coming too strong, being too pushy about it," she confesses.

"What?! You? Being too strong and pushy? Noooooo! Un-freaking-believable. In what universe is Venus, uh — I don't know your middle name, McFly too pushy?" Robecca says in her most sardonic voice.

Venus giggles, "You're right, what am I thinking? Being too pushy? As if, right?" They laugh a little. "But seriously, I don't know, maybe I am the one with the problem."

"There is nothing wrong with you, you just want to be in the open with the ghoul you love, like a real couple and not just as friends, and not hiding to be with her."

"Well, even if people knew, we still would have to do some hiding to _be_ together, you know?" says with a sly grin.

"Not really, I am a robot, remember? Can't really _be_ with anyone."

"Right, sorry," says apologetically.

"Then again, is not like I have had anyone to try."

"Don't sorry, I'm sure one day you'll find the right guy, or… ghoul? I was never clear on that?"

"Guess we'll have to wait and find out. You know, maybe the problem is not she is afraid of people here rejecting her, but being rejected by _somebody_ else. "

"Like _who!?_ " she asks, then after a second, realizes what she means. "Oooh, I did not think of that. Maybe I should talk to her about it."

4:29 P.M.

Unknown Cabin.

"This can't be real, this has to be a lie!" Devon fumes, distraught.

"I would like to believe that too, but it is all there, the ingredients, the rituals, he had everything he needed." Keith explains with a grim voice. "He created a spell that no one else has been able to conceive."

"Wait, there are a few ingredients missing," he points reading the list of ingredients needed for his spell, looking at the none that isn't scratched. "It says here one of the most important is the heart of a werecat, he never killed Toralei or any of the werecats at school."

Keith listens as he swallows one of his pills. "Yes he did. The video of the Black Room, remember? The first guy he killed was a werecat, he ripped his heart out and made it vanish in the air. I wondered what that was about, where did it go. I know it now. Dick needed the heart of a monster with more lives than its own. But the most important part was the _rebirth_ and _dead_ of an _honest man_. That man being him, that man died years ago, when Unknown was born, and then again when I shot him down."

"How —?"

"We had Veritas' blood on the bullets that night. Her blood can make even the most wicked liar into the most honest to the Gods man. Is all here in his many angled plan," he begins explaining Richard's long term plan. "He used the power of a trickster, who happened to be Loki, to kill ASOME, while creating chaos and tension between human and monster population which made him more powerful, and had the potential to start a third world war in which whatever remains of ASOME would seize to power enslaving monsters and humans alike, and in his mind he truly believed it would force humans and monsters to unite against ASOME, that we would work together and divert our mutual hatred towards a common enemy and defeat a group of powerful monsters with a God complex. That is assuming of course, he hasn't been able to destroy them all by himself, which seems like a pointless backup plan since he would have been unstoppable if he had had all those powers, yet clearly he knew the possibility of somebody stopping him from reaching full power or even afterwards, was a solid fact. For which he had another contingency plan, he knew somewhere out there, there had to be somebody who would be able to see what he was doing and would be able to stop him, in fact, he was counting on it! So while he killed ASOME, he would also recollect every ingredient he needed to create this spell, just in case somebody got as far as we did — not only being able to figure out who he is, but how to stop him for good, using Veritas' blood to nullify his trickster powers, turn him into a mortal again, and as I said, upon contact with her essence, he would die an honest man… again. Thus completing all he needed for his spell to become…" he pauses for a moment and swallows, unable to say it out loud. "To become immortal… using all those divine energies that fluxed inside him at the moment of his dead to reconstitute his body into something more than human, something like we have never seen before. A fully immortal human. Not like a vampire, I mean truly indestructible and immortal being with no virtual weaknesses. Basically he succeeded where Lord Voldemort would not. I bet he must be screaming in his grave to know a _muggle_ achieved what he, a Slytherin, did not. Now he is immortal and has the powers of a god, with no attachments or contract with any other divine being."

"And with that power there is literally nothing that can stop him from destroying ASOME." Devon says in shock. "But, wait a minute, how do you know it worked? Did you… did you check his corpse?"

"What a stupid question, of course I did! Wanna see for your self, let's get out there and take a look! His body is gone! The body we cremated and buried is gone. He didn't even crawled out of the grave, he disappeared! And now he is out there ready to kill again, don't you understand? Everything we did was for nothing!" Keith shouts in a desperate tone. "Everything we've been through, everything I have been through was for nothing! All I got from this was nothing but a rent free room and a fresh reminder of what true despair feels like," he cries.

"Now, don't start crying on me, I hate to see a grown man cry, uh, well… teenager. Guess you're still a kid, so I suppose you're allowed to cry, but is still not an nice thing to watch," Richard says from the door.

The boys turn around in shock and horror. The man they hunted, killed, burned and buried stands right in front of them, and he was nothing like when he died. Dick stands taller than they remember him, when he once dressed to hide in the dark, to lurk his preys unseen, he now wears neat white clothes: white pants, shoes, sucks, a white blazer and a white turtle neck sweater with then words I'M NOT UNKNOWN emblazoned on his chest; his body which was frail and dying by cancer is now restored at its peak, with more muscular mass than he had lost and even his skin has become flawless, hale and glowing. Richard is at his prime, he is a man of his thirties — is twenties again. His black hair is long, smooth and strong, his face handsome and his smile arrogant, like the smile of a man who has not only faced death, but spat on its face, mocked it and conquered it. "My, you kids look like you just saw a ghost," he laughs so naturally."Maybe I shouldn't have gone for full white, it so makes me look like a ghost and that is not the look i want, I am after all fully alive! Maybe I should put on a black blazer and pants." Richard snaps his fingers, switching the color of his clothes."Now, this is a look that says: Hello world, I am alive and more than glad for it, I am ready to kick in the face everything you throw at me, am I right?" The guys remain silent, teeming with panic. "Ok, I get, I get it. Probably not the best time to crack a joke. You're still a little touchy about the whole killing me and enjoying it part. So straight to the point. I won't kill you, ok? Not you, nor your ghoulfriends. I promise — crisscross my heart, that I won't hurt any of you ever again, no harm shall fall on any innocent monster, specially from that school, uh, not from my hand. Can't make a promise for the rest of the world. So you can stop fearing that I will come back for the sequel to have my revenge, killing you in your sleep. That is so Michael Myers. I know I've been teasing you around a lot, lurking in the shadows, but that was only so you would come here and see for yourself the great roll you had in my final plan. I am a new man, I am reborn. Thanks to you I got a new life. So you can keep the house if you want, I don't need it anymore, but you surely could use it, and I'm sure you would love to keep reading all those grimores I have here," Keith flinches slightly. "I already know how they end anyway, sorry, no spoilers You can consider it my gift, to you, as retribution for giving me the greatest gift of all: eternal life!" he laughs again. "You can do with them whatever you want, as so shall I with my new life. I think I might start by… killing a hundred thousands ASOME members and pawns, just for the fun of it. Got a long week a head of me and my partners are eager to continue with our schedules, and as soon as I'm done with that… well, I don't know, I lived from revenge for so long I don't know what to do next. I could leave a few alive to rebuild ASOME so I can crush it again a few more times, but even immortal, I can only have so much patience." Richard claps his hands suddenly, as if the greatest idea has come to his mind. "I know, when I'm done with them, I shall run for president and make this country _great_ again! How do you like the sound of this: Elected President Richard Wayne, for 2017. Or maybe I should wait a little longer, maybe for 2020, we'll see, ASOME is a lot bigger than it looks like. Well, bye-bye!" with a large grin, Richard disappears just as sudden as he appeared.

The boys are left agape.

"Did… did I just imagine that? Did you see Richard at the door too?" Keith asks, feeling he might be loosing his mind now.

"Dude — what… the junk… was that?" Devon asks flabbergasted.

* * *

 **So sorry guys for being so absent laely, college is a real DRAF ot kills my creativity to be s strresed fpr the thesis, so long as I'm on vacations I will write**

 **hey has anypne ever thpught maybe te guy whosse fic ypu follow isnt posting new issues because he is dead by cancer or accident, or what you want? ever thought of that? life is a bitch**


	23. Chapter 23

XXIII

"I mean, you saw too, right?" Devon asks still in shock by the baffluing and… uh… strange…? Yeah, strange event that jut happened. "I mean that was Richard appearing at the room like —"

"Like a new man. Gotta give it to him, he knows how to make an entrance." Keith admits in a monotonous voice. First sign that he is getting completely sober, no alcohol or pills. "The question now is: what are going to do about it?"

The boys remain silent for along time before Devon makes the decision. "We won't tell anything to the ghouls. They don't need to know that."

"They don't need to know that the guy who murdered two of their friends and tortured another one is still alive and more powerful than ever?!" Keith says with growing anger in his voice.

"The ghouls have been through enough pain in their lives now. The last thing they need is this, to know that their boogie man is still alive! Besides, he said he won't be coming after us — any of us, ever again. We gave him what he needed, he does not have any reason to keep chasing us."

"Oh, and you believe him?!"

"He gave us his word."

"Because it is worth so much!" spits Keith in rage. "How do we know he won't feel like breaking his word any day from now, like, in don't know — right now!?"

"Then what do you suggest? To hunt down a man that cannot be hunted? A man who is, by then way, destroying one of the most evil organizations on the world!"

"So that's how it works? He gets away with all he's done because not was for the greater good? Do you even know what the greater good is supposed to be?"

"Look, I get it. You do not like it, neither do I. But there is nothing we can do, we cannot do this to them, they have suffered enough as it is, but now they have the chance to find peace again — to heal all the wounds he left on them. Because asnfar as they know, he is dead!" Devon rationalises.

"And leaving him live will not!?" Keith raises his voice further.

"We tell them he is alive, that all we did, all we worked for, all the pain we went through was for nothing, we undo everything! And they will be in more pain than before, living in heat-stopping fear every second of their lives. Is that what you want for them? Is that what you want for Clawdeen and Frankie and Scarah?"

Keith flinches slightly, and pauses for a moment, thinking of the few people in that school that he can call his friends. Could he really do this to them? To destroy their chance at having a normal happy life or unlife again and leave all the suffering behind? This is a chance he never had: the chance to move on, and he could not take it from them could he?

"All I am saying is… we won. We stopped him from hurting any other student, from hurting our _friends_. Or are they not your friends? Don't you care about them?"

"Of course I do? Do you think I would've killed him and sacrificed my soul if I didn't?" Morningstar fumes.

"Then don't tell them. We keep secrets from people all the time, specially from the people we _care_ about, to protect them. They deserve to be happy, to feel safe, and there is no reason to believe otherwise. As far as they know Richard is gone — Unknown is dead, and he _is_ dead, he is not coming back. He has no reason to come looking for them or any of us again, he has his own agenda: to destroy ASOME. And it does not involve Monster High again. And as long as we don't go after him, he won't have to go after us. Besides what can we possibly do against him now that he is immortal. He is something else, something new that the world has never seen. We don't even know what he is capable of, or where do his powers come from."

"That is exactly what bothers me…" Keith pauses for a moment and calculates in his mind what could happen if the ghouls ever find out about this, without Richard ever coming back. "But you are right," he finally agrees. "The girls… they don't need to know this… Clawdeen, Frankie… Scarah… the ghouls have been kind to me… treated me as if I were one of them. Is time I do the same, and spare them the pain of knowing."

"So you won't tell them?" asks to make sure of his intentions.

"I won't, but I won't trust him either. You can put your faith on a man like him to keep his word if you want, but I won't. Because I know better, I know one day he will be back, and we'll have a lot explaining and apologizing to do. But one thing I won't do is to watch the few people I care about die and suffer again, because of him, nor because of _you_. I will keep the house, and I will read his grimories, every single one of them. I will learn everything there is to learn here, and I will crack his spell. Because an spell like that can't be perfect, it must have a weakness, and I will find it. I will prepare myself. And when he returns, and he _will_ , I'll be ready to kill him again, and this time it will be permanent! And you're not getting in my way," Keith states with a grim and intense determination in his voice.

"Okay, I think there is no stopping you then," Dev says, accepting his terms.

"No," assures him coldly.

Closely followed by his statement, is the bellring of a mini oven, indicating their frozen pizzas are already defrosted. Naturally, even if Richard hadn't left him the house, he would still eat his food. He was never one for letting good food go to waste, or partially god food. Lucky Richard made his groceries a few days before dying. He was surprised Devon would join him though.

Devon sighs and sneers almost derisively. "Always the _Slytherin_."

"Ever the _Gryffindor_." Keith replies in cold _sotto voce,_ as he pulls out the hot steaming pizzas.

The guys sneer and laugh for a second. Even in this situation, or precisely because of it, they can't help to gloss out that part of their nature to which they always refer as their _magic fanboy_. Maybe it is stupid to bring that out in a moment like this — the Hogwarts House in which they were sorted at Potter more —, but maybe they need it, maybe it is the only way in which they could cope with something like this. Besides, the day in which they don't have a conversation with pop cult references is, as their favorite band Metallica always says: _the day that never comes_.

"Man, we would do great at that school." Devon laughs.

"Technically we live in America. We _are_ Americans, so we would go to Ilvermorny." Keith corrects him.

"Right. I guess I would be a fine Wampus then, and you, my knavish and slippery friend, you would be a fine Horned Serpent."

"Just because you're overgrown cat in one, doesn't mean you'll be the same in the other."

"I thought you loved cats, besides I'm already sorted, so —"

Keith ignores him "and just because I'm a snake in one, doesn't mean I'll be a snake in the other. Besides I hate rivers and water."

"Oh yeah? What house did you get sorted then?"

Keith glares at him in silent then breaks and says "Just shut up and eat your defrosted pizza!"

Dev let's out another derisive sneer. "Do you really think you can find a way to kill him?" His tone is serious again.

"If there is one, it has to be here, and if anyone can that is _me_ ," he bites his pizza, "and even if there isn't, well I can always find a new way to kill him," adds with conviction.

His brother, by anything but blood, stares at him fixedly, how he should feel about this decision he does not know yet.

Later that day, Keith handed every assignment of every class he missed, and along the week he would do that with almost every assignment from each class, delivering most of them that same night; how did he manage to make them in such short notice, the teachers could not figure out, but when — or rather _if_ a student has his homework ready the same day it is assigned, and is so insistent to deliver it soon, who are they to argue? Of course, when they asked him why the hurry or why would he disappear that day, the reply was not very enlightening, cutting it with a simple: _I had personal issues to attend_. _The kind that could not wait._ Yet, to the headmistress he had to use a more convincing lie which was: _I had an appointment with my doctor, the one who helps me with and prescribes me for my anxiety issues, but he couldn't show up. His wife gave birth today, so he forgot about his schedule, making me waste all the morning waiting for him. The bastard couldn't even call to his office. And since he is all the way to the other side of town, on the human side, well it was a long ride. Also I stopped for some pizza on the way here. I can hardly call food what they serve in the cafeteria._

She bought it, but he got a feeling that not quite, only she just chose not to push it.

This pattern repeats for several weeks, with Keith having long and unexplained periods of absence, and even though he makes sure most are during weekends, at nighttime or after classes, he couldn't help to miss a few, thus he would have to use the best of his lying skills, an art at which he has always been very proficient, to explain why. Although it doesn't seem to bother the teachers much, who are mostly as pleased as they are confused by his capacity for delivering homework on time or even before so. Even the girls wonder how does he do that? He misses the whole class and yet he delivers the assignment a week early?

They asked Devi once how does he do it and where does he go, but not even knows his secret, at least not the one regarding the homework. _It has always been one of the many, many and biggest mysteries I could never resolve about him. And as for where does he go, well, I tried asking him once, never gave me a straight answer. I tried following him, I chased him all the way through town before realizing he knew I was after him and just messing with me. Honestly those have become the kind of things I would rather never know about him, you would be wise to do the same._

It wasn't a whole lie, though. He doesn't really know how does Keith gets the time to do all those assignments and do the research at Richard's — former house. He knows he always had trouble sleeping, so he must use all his night hours for working, and that he is a great multitasker, he could be focusing on one problem, say how to kill an untillable being, and at the same time work on a biology project, but even he must have some limits to his abilities.

Nobody ever imagined that his secret is this simple: he is smart enough to cheat _without_ cheating!

An explanation seems due: by hacking the personal computer of each teacher and Bloodgood's, he was able to see what are the scheduled assignments for the next month in each class and even the tests, thus getting a leg up with each work. Now, anyone else would get the questions and the answer to the tests, but he prefers to use his brain to answer the questions, knowing exactly on which subject must he focus his mind, instead wasting time preparing for all possible questions. That is what he calls a fair way of cheating, he gets the questions before all the other students, but he _studies_ specifically for them, rather than stealing the answers. _I mean, I wouldnt be learning a damn thing if I stole the answers_ , he says to himself _._ Is not that really needs to do that, he just likes to be prepared, and to know _exactly_ what is waiting for him. Same goes for the homework, this way he can discern which assignment requires more attention and which can be left for later, usually working on the really easy stuff first like the Jiang Xi-Oni Wars essay — which by the way was in actuality a rehash of an old essay he wrote a while back just for the fun of it — to leave his schedule open for the most complicated ones like the biology project, which would require a lot more time for it to meet _his_ standards. Although sometimes he would leave the easy ones for dessert, but not this time, for he feels this biology — biteology project is more important and appealing. He is a big fan of biology.

That became very evident when he dissected a frog during the last class in minutes, surprising the teacher who was busy dealing with Lagoona's ranting about how unfair it is to cut open a dead frog just for science. It unsettled her a little bit. Though the real question for him was: _why the Hell do we have to cut a frog like we were sophomores again?_ Apparently to remind them the basics about common biology, that is to say those most common biological traits shared by humans, animals, and monsters for their assignment. It really doesn't make sense though since it has to do with DNA, rather than physiology. Honestly, he feels like she ran out of ideas for the class.

29 October

3:19 P.M.

Monster High, Biteology Lab.

Cautiously, Clawdeen walks through the door of the lab where Keith waits for her. She would admit to see him dressed in a lab coat is quite a shocker, in fact today he looks the complete opposite to his usual look, wearing a red wool vest with a dark blue shirt underneath, the dark shades being the only constant in his outfits. As she gets closer she can see he knows how to wear the standard smarty-pants outfit by excellence — and she could not recall the last time she saw him with his hair brushed, just that alone makes him look like a whole different man. Yet the strangest part is how comfortable he looks in those clothes, using the lab equipment with such joy emanating from him, even though it is not really reflected on his face she can actually _feel_ it; only other person she's seen with that much excitement by using lab equipment is Ghoulia.

Slowly, she walks towards the table careful not to disturb him on whatever he is working, using that capacity for stalking that is so ingrained in her DNA, an instinct long unsed but not forgotten, a gift left in her blood by her ancestors; Kieth's eyes lay deep into the microscope, yet as careful as her steps might be, she could not hide the smell of her perfume. That powerful smell of lavender.

It is a Transylvania's Secret, the monster homologue of Victoria's Secret.

"You came?" says lifting his head, pulling a chair for her to sit next to him. "Here… take a sit, please."

She greets him with a friendly smile. "Yeah well, you called me asking for a favor, so here I am," announces taking the sit. "So… what is it you need me for? 'Cuz y'know am not really good at any of this science stuff." The wolf girl asks.

"Yeah, I know. I saw your grades, remember? I also know your middle name is Lucia, Clawdeen Lucia Wolf, which would be a nice combination if it weren't for the fact that having a monster spelled name next to a normally spelled name is a strange and confusing contrast."

Clawdeen stares at him, mildly peeved. Only he can make her feel happy, upset and confused with a single sentence all at once.

"You know, the fact that you remember my middle name could have been something cute if you hadn't stopped to check for spelling," states unamused.

"You gotta admit, it brings up some questions. Everyone's names here are… relatively creative portmanteaus, yet the parents seem to run out of ideas when they reach to the middle name."

She laughs softly. _Can't say is not true._

"Is that why you called me here? To talk about names?"

"Goodness, no! What a dreadfully boring topic," says effusively. "I called you here for a far more interesting subject, one that has seized all of my attention."

"That being…?"

"You." Keith says simply.

The moment she hears that, she can feel herself blushing. " _Me?_ Wait, what?"

For a moment she hesitates, unsure what to say next.

"That's right, you are more interesting than you know, and in more ways than two," says he, moving closer to her, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice soft and urgent. "That is why I want to ask you something I have never requested to anyone."

"That would be…?" she asks with anticipation and ring of excitement in her voice. Her pulse raising just a bit.

"I need a blood sample from you," says pulling out a needle from his coat.

After saying those words, Clawdeen becomes spechless for a moment, staring at him with eyes wide open, then she breaks her silences saying. "Of all the things you could ask from me I thought I would say no, this is one I never thought of."

"So, is that a yes?" he asks innocently.

"No! Are you out of your mind? What — why would you even ask me for my blood?" Clawdeen asks madly confused, pulling away from him.

"Because I need it for an Advanced Biteology project. We gotta study blood samples from our fellow students, and if there is any ghoul whose blood I would want to see trough a microscope, that is you." Keith says with unheard honesty.

And somehow, what he says… flatters her.

"Really?" says touched, but immediately changing her tone. "No, wait… I think I need a better explanation here."

"As I said, we gotta watch the blood samples of at least one of our classmates and take notes of their cells behavior. You know, act like real scientists, like when we had to count amoebas last week."

"And you want to study _mine?_ " goes on in disbelief.

"Well, I figured if I'm going to watch cells all night long, they might as well be the cells of a girl who carries fabulousness in her blood."

"Ok, I know you're just saying that to convince me to say yes," says with arms crossed and a soft smile. "Flattery is not gonna work with me, boy."

"True, is flattery, but it doesn't make it any less real," says Keith, his stare still locked on her eyes. Even when working with a microscope he wouldn't take off his yellow shades. "I mean every word I say. I have watched you — get to know you for a while and came to realize you are fabulous in many ways. It's all you've ever known, it is in your blood."

"And what, you think you can find the gen that makes me awesome?" queries almost laughingly.

"Maybe. Only one way to find out."

Clawdeen pauses for a while, then slowly takes off her leather jacket saying "Fine! Do it before I change my mind."

 _I can't believe I'm gonna give him my blood!_ she thinks.

"Thank you."

Sooner than she would have liked to, he prepares her arm for the needle, cleaning the spot with alcohol, and searching for the vein.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Clawdeen sounds like somebody who is just not a fan of needles.

"Don't sorry, I work as a volunteer at the zoo and local vets. Puncturing animals is the same as puncturing people."

"Wait, what? Yo — ouch!" Clawdeen flinches as the needle pierces her skin, reaching through the vein.

"Apparently your thick skin is not just euphemistical but literal," he comments.

Normally she has no problem with looking at blood, but this is her blood, drawn with a hypodermic needle. The keywords are hypodermic needle, swewing needles and her are besties, but their hypodermic cousins and her got a whole different history together, going way back to her first anti-rabid vaccine shot, and is not a good story.

"Not a big fan of needles, eh? I feel you, I hate these bastards too," says pulling out the needle once he gets enough blood. "I'm sorry for the discomfort." Adds apologetically, something he rarely does, more like never.

 _I feel like burning just by apologizing._

"It's ok, " says, folding her left arm. "I guess we really do anything for a friend," drawls to herself. Now she sits closer, she can see his vest is a darker shade of red, more of a scarlet. If he got any blood stain, it wouldn't be noticed, and it could only be a coincidence. "Never thought I'd bleed fo a that all you need?"

"Yep, this is all the blood I'll need." Says staring at it, as though mesmerized by its color.

"Good, never ask me for blood again."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'm not telling you what I do in my free time when I go AWOL. Is personal," says coldly, getting ahead of her query.

"Well, I'm glad to see we're close enough to exchange blood, but not secrets about what we do," says sarcastically.

"Hey, that kind of mystery keeps a relationship interesting."

"Relationship?" Clawdeen repeats raising an eyebrow.

"Well, friendships are a form of relationship, are they not?"

"I suppose they are," says putting on her jacket, "but I actually wanted to ask you something else."

"Ok, shoot," says placing an small drop of blood on the glass thing used to watch the samples in the microscope.

"You're talking to me."

"Yes, I suppose I am." Answers almost monotonously.

"And you're not drunk… you're sober, right?"

"Yeah, well this requires my mind at its finest. Is not that it is _that_ complicated, but I wouldn't like to mess this up, so no alcohol for now. Only the pills I'm prescribed, hopefully they don't tamper with my intellect in any negative way, on a short or long term." States calmly, looking at the sample through the microscope. "As you might guess, my intelligence — my brains make me who I am."

"I might have. And yet, here you are, _talking_ to me, sobber, whereas I can usuallyis tell there was a strange smell in your breathe. Never had smelled vodka before I met you," she draws herself slightly closer to him. "In fact, I am not sure I have ever seen you sober before, let alone had a conversation with sober Keith."

"Sober Keith usually doesn't have conversations, specially not with cute girls. But as you have accurately pointed, I am sober and talking."

"Does that mean you feel more comfortable around me, or did you get new pills?"

"Actually yes, I do?"

"Do you feel more comfortable around me, or do you have new pills?" she verifies.

"A bit of both," says looking at her. "I got new pills, but right now, I am one hundred percent at my fullest, mentally speaking, which means I am not at my best for socializing," admits, looking prone. "But then again we're all alone here and not in a crowd, unless you got an invisible and scentless horde of stalkers with no heartbeat. If we're not in a crowd, then I don't have a reason to get anxious, but you should have noticed by now, this isn't the first time we're alone. Besides, I never felt uncomfortable around you."

"Is that so?" asks dragging her chair even closer to him. "How come?"

"Well, I always get anxious around people, specially strangers, but you… I don't know, is not that I didn't get the same nervousness I usually do when am in front of a really pretty girl such as you," she tilts her head smiling with the best fake modesty she could make, putting her left hand on her chest and gesturing with the other as if saying _oh, please stop, you flatter me_ , "I just… I really like having you around, it makes me feel… better," he confesses.

Clawdeen forms a soft smile pulling back her hair, her golden eyes are transfixed on him. Keith's face is always a mask, and at any given moment Clawdeen has no idea what he's thinking; reading his mood is always difficult, mostly because it changes with his medications or with his drinking, in fact she can actually count with a single hand the times she has been able to tell how he feels, but lately she has felt a change in him, as though he welcomes her to see more of himself, not much though, just a glimpse.

Then again, after that other confession, trusting her with such secret, wouldn't it be fair to say she is already deep inside?

Keith turns his face into the microscope again. He says nothing more. Clawdeen isn't sure if he wants to drop this conversation and be left alone or if he wants her to stay. Maybe he wants both. Maybe her presence is distracting him; yet she leans closer to him, just a bit so he can smell her perfume, she has a confession to make,.

"Well, I gotta say I like your company too, I'm really starting to appreciate these conversations. Your mouth is like a fortune cookie: I just never know what's gonna come out of it," says smiling giggly.

"That is so not right. My predictions are never wrong, fortune cookies only get one out of ten."

"Right, I forgot about your two rules."

"And they're not even Chinese, nor Chinese-American, they're fully American and the most delicious scam in the world."

"Wouldnt be so sure about the delicious part, but that's a relative," she puts in, then adds a question. "Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?"

"Wanna make sure I won't do anything freaky with your blood?" says he while adjusting the microscope.

"Uh…"

"Don't worry, I got no intention of cloning you. You're one of a kind and I would like to keep it that way," comments almost without knowing, as he takes notes on his notebook.

"Aaaww. Thank you," says touched and truly flattered this time. "But that is not what worries me, I just don't wanna go home just now. It is awful there, overcrowding. With my parents always watching my every movement, like I'm a prisoner," she begins, then she swiftly drops it. "Maybe I shouldn't get there, or else I'll be talking nonstop about it, complaining and ranting… I just thought perhaps I can stay here with you for a while."

"It's okay. You can stay and talk about it if you want, I'll pretend like I'm listening when I'm really not," says as he checks his watch, then looking into the microscope again, "you can never tell anyway. Just don't be any more distracting than you're already are."

"So I'm distractive, eh?" she gives him a look as though taking it as a compliment. "Fine, I'll do all the talking then," she smiles as if taking up a challenge.

.


	24. Chapter 24

XXIV

4:25 P.M.

Monster High Biteology Lab

"Well, this is just fascinating when you look at it upclose," says Keith in an astounded voiced.

"Really, what? You already found my _clawsome_ gene?" says she with sparkling interest.

"No, in order to find it, I require more specialized, cutting edge equipment and the school can't afford that. But what I can see under this microscope is definitely worth seeing, you should see it too."

Keith moves so Clawdeen can look at her blood cells under the microscope.

"I don't get it, what am I looking at here?" sounds confused.

"Your genes are _extraordinary_ , you know that?" exclaims with the unmistakable ring of enthusiasm in his voice. She moves her head to look at his face actually glowing in excitement, this is in fact one of the very, very _few_ times she can tell how he feels by looking at his face. "The moment you reach puberty, the same hormonal and chemical change that makes your body grow from a little child body into this, rather astounding woman's body, makes your cells age at half the rate of a normal human compared to a werewolf cub whose aging is just the same according to Ghoulia's notes — and Google. In fact if am correct, and I am, you've already reached that age in which you almost stop _aging_ at all. I mean, when you're 40, you'll still have the leucocytes of a teenager. Must say you have the most incredible cellular structure I've ever seen, granted I've only seen mine before. I mean, I've read about this before, but to actually look at it is… the best fun I've ever had with pant on and my zipper up! Wait," he checks his pants, "yes, they're up. You would tell me if they're down, wouldn't you?"

Clawdeen smiles at him. "You know, all I got from that is that you think my body is _astounding_ and that I'll kept it for the years to come."

"Well, as you know, you'll live about four hundred years, five if you have a good diet and exercise constantly. But this particular mutation is what makes your kind _live_ for so long. What keeps you away from the woes of age for so many years without having to die first like most of monster species."

"Mutation?" she gives him a confused look.

"Yes, darling, you're a mutant. We're all mutants."

"Like the movies?" Keith give her his trademarked peeved look. "Right, stupid question."

"I'm going to ignore these last ten seconds, though your powers make think you could form a superhero team."

"I think I got a vague memory of doing something like that once."

"Tell me, how much do you understand about _genetics?_ How much do you know about _evolution?_ "

"Not much, only that vampires _don't_ come from bats, unilke humans come from apes and werewolves from, well — wolves," replies, feeling an unavoidable bragadoucheous explanation on the way.

"That's right! We humans share about ninety-eight percent of our genes with monkies, not enough to breed with them, but enough to certify our evolutionary kinship," he begins. "The same way, werewolves are apart by only a miserable two percent from their genetic ancestors. The reason why is simple, an spontaneous act of nature: _mutation_ , the mysterious phenomenon that took us from single-celled organisms to being the dominant form of reproductive life on this planet. Infinite forms of variation with each generation, all through mutation, and all of them providing us of the necessary changes needed to ensure our survival; but you'd be surprised to hear we, _homo sapiens sapiens_ — so arrogant we call ourselves wise twice — actuality share many genes with you, the _lupus sapiens_ — modest enough to call yourselves wise only once — which is why werewolves and humans can _mate_ with each other."

"Are you making a pass at me? Is this your nerdy way to make an indecent proposition?" asks with a mock tone.

Keith goes silent for a brief moment, then continues. "Uh, no — maybe, uh, I — I don't know," he stammers. _My, he really is different when he is sober and clean. Nowhere near smooth_ , thinks Clawdeen with an inner laugh and a smile on her face. "What I'm trying to say is mutations are the key as to why we are what we are. For instance, your eyes are golden and shine like the sun, plus they come with _tapetum lucidum_ , the key to your night vision, a wonderful mutation that not only embellishes you, but is also a great evolutionary advantage that places you on top of the food chain. In fact, most monster got an unfair number evolutionary advantages over almost all other species, specially humans, which I believe is the sad reason why human-monster relationships are always so shifting, one day walking into the sunset like friends, like brothers, the next day…" he pauses for a moment and mulls, then says "well, I don't know much about brothers, 'cause I don't have any real siblings, but as far as I know they don't always get along, so… yeah, you can say one way or another is the same, whether they're fighting or not, they're acting like brothers, right?"

"Argh, you got no idea," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I love my brothers but they can be such a pain in the _tail_ sometimes."

"You don't really have a tail," says getting an stinky eyes from her. "What? Is true, you don't have tails, unlike werecats or minotaurs. Never understood why, I think they're cool."

"Ok, let me change that. I love my brothers but they can be such a pain in the _non-tail_ sometimes. Is that better?"

"Not really, sounds like the beginning of a grammatical nightmare," he insists.

The werewolf girl stares at him for a while and sighs with a soft giggle. "You really are a case, aren't you?"

"I'm not really fond of wordplays, unless I make them."

"That explains it. Fine, no wordplays."

"I would appreciate that."

"I love my brothers but they can be such a pain in the _ass_ sometimes."

"Pain like when you sit for too long, or pain like when you got a hemorrhoid?"

"More like going back and forth, with a preference for being a hemorrhoid," she laughs. "I mean Clawd and the guys and are so overprotective it's suffocating, they act like they're my fathers and always try to intimidate any guy who gets close to me or that I get close to and don't leave me have any real dates."

"Funny, and here I thought all the other guys where just intimidated by _you_. I mean, you being you — so pretty and confident, and you smell so good I can see how any guy would feel intimidated by you…" he stops when he looks at her expression, a strange mixture of bliss and… surprise? He couldn't tell, he was never good for reading people, not without his medicine and not when he isn't pulling a trick. Was it assurance? Confidence? She looks as though no one has ever said that before, "I… don't believe I should keep talking."

"The saddest part is that when I finally go out with a guy in a date, he actually happens to be just that kind of jerk they were trying to protect me from. Not like I _needed_ it, I can protect myself, but it was just — I don't know. Is not like I had my hopes high, but I really thought things with him could work better than they did…" she looks down with an air of disappointment. Now tat one he couldn't miss it, he's been the cause of that same expression on women since 1997.

"Was he your frist…?"

"Boyfriend? No, Thad and I, we never got that, we just had a dance on Halloween and a date that didn't end well, we didn't really have much chemistry. I never felt like we… connected, and the guy just can't take a no for an answer and stalked me for several weeks until I broke his nose," says an with an air of triumph. "That must have been enough to learn when take a no for an answer, but of course I couldn't tell any of the ghouls, specially Lala that her cousin was a jerk 'cuz she would babble on Clawdeen and that would make things worse, I can't even brag on their faces a that I don't need them 'cause they would say it proves them right. And Howleen is the worst roommate ever! Clawdia was lucky to be the firstborn and having a room for herself, even more so now she lives in Londoom, living with Howleen is almost like living with a spoiled dog that bites all your shoes and then borrows those she hasn't bitten yet without asking."

"Good thing you shop like there is not tomorrow," adds without thinking much.

"Ah, why do you think I buy so much?"

"I have some theories…" _your predatory instincts are still alive and kicking, only they adapted to modern times and compell you to hunt offers instead of animals_ , "…hoarding disorder is a strong candidate. But then again, psychology is Devi's deal, I never really cared for it since it doesn't offer a definite solution to real problems."

"And what is your deal exactly?" she asks resting her elbow on the table, leaning her head on her knuckles, her sunny eyes staring at him dreamy and intrigued. "'Cuz I try to figure you out, but every time there is something new about you that confuses me. I just can't understand you."

A small smirk draws on his lips. "Ha, trying to crack the nutcase," he drawls.

"Yeah. First you're like this Chris Angel and Dynamo lovechild who looks like he came straight out of the school of the seven bells with a fake PhD in conning, but you always seem to have the right answer for anything, like a _real_ smartass conartist of some sort."

"Ha! A conartist, you make it sound so glamorous," he laughs. "But yeah, that's actually quite close, I'm a great pickpocket too," says giving her back her bracelet.

Clawdeen smirks. "And now I see you here, and I see beneath all that leather you really are a nerd."

"Yeah well I am polythemed, but favorite my deal is actual medicine," states calmly.

"Wow, really?" she asks agape with eyes wide open in shock.

"Among other things, such as the origin of species as you might've guessed. Given the wide and wonderful diversity of life forms on this planet and the little explanation we got so far as to _why_ , I believe some answers to this mystery are long overdue. Although I had lost interest for a while I must say, but recent events have restored it or more like _restarted_ it; and as for the duality of my nature, that is man's nature itself, we're never one or the other. We're always changing, evolving and never staying the same."

"How about you give me an answer that's a little less ambiguous? Just for a change."

Keith in sighs deeply. "I am a man of both science and magic, the natural and the supernatural. Sounds contradictory, as a priest who studies the big bang and the expansion of the universe (which they do), but in fact that is the nature of our world, with so many laws that defy comprehension, beings with gifts that many others, with _others_ being us the mere mortals known as humans, would only dream to posses. So if I am to understand — and I mean _fully_ understand the nature of our world, and every creature that ever lived, or unlived on it, I must see them through every aspect of their being: biological and spiritual, physical and metaphysical," sounds with the same excitement from before. "Besides, I can't just be one thing at the time, I can't just be a scientist, when I know there is more to this world than science, things that it can't explain, and I can't learn about magic when I know it is not the answer for everything, also magic is a science of its own."

Clawdeen sneers.

"What's so funny?"

"Is just… I haven't seen you like this before. You are so different when you talk about this, science and magic and all that you just said, like you're really happy. You're really passionate about it, aren't you?"

"Well, science and magic are for me what fashion is for you. They're the sole reason why I can find any purpose in my life, any real sense. Honestly any kind of knowledge does it. Wherever there is knowledge to learn, I pick up, though I tend to forget it if I have no use for it. I am a real-life Braniac you may say."

"Yeah, you surely are a braniac. I can see why you Ghoulia hit it off so well," she checks her wrist watch. "Maybe I should go home now," announces, looking prone.

"…do you… need a ride?"

"You're offering yourself to take me home? Well, I believe someone is making progress today," exclaims gleefully. "Finally getting some real people skills. I would like that, yes."

"Good, just give me a moment to put this away," he takes off his labcoat, covering all the equipment with it, and as soon as the table is covered, the microscope and everything with which he was working, fades away underneath the coat. "Ok, we're good to go," says, folding the coat, placing it inside his manpurse, leaving a clear table.

"Wow, you gotta teach me how to do that," says with eyes open. "Think you can do it with my hairdresser?"

"Sweetie, I saw your room once. Not even as a real wizard I could do such thing," explains as he puts on his blazer, "I can only do magic tricks, not miracles."

"I guess that's fair, I got quite a mess there."

With no real haste, they head to the parking lot, which is mostly empty except for a few cars belonging to the teachers and even less to the students who lived there and had cars of their own. You know how it is, in every boarding school there is always this group of super, super rich guys whose parents allow them to have cars of their own. I suppose you gotta be rich to go to a boarding school, but to have your own vehicle, I can't speak for experience, but I believe those are the super, super rich ones, right? That's how it works on TV, let's assume that TV reflects how the real world works.

They reach the end of the parking lot, well, more presciely the end of the row of cars. They walk a few parking spaces over. A shiny black and purple motorcycle rests on its kickstand. He swings on and tipped his head at the seat behind him. "Hop on."

"Have I said its a nice bike?" she asks, thinking _It has a vibe among the lines of glossy black and purple death trap, but then again, those are my colors too… second to gold. No way I can't like it._

Of course, here is a little secret of hers, she has never been on a motorcycle in her life, ever. She always thought of it, wondered what is was like but never got the chance nor the courage to get on one, until that night. That changed thanks to him. Somehow he has a knack for making her do things she wouldn't think she'd do, not in a hundred years.

"I like the feel of the wind on my face," said the first time she got on his bike, putting on a mask of bravado over her fear — no, terror is more accurate — her terror of moving at speeds beyond of 80 miles an hour with nothing standing between her and the road, a very tangible and reasonable fear. She was surprised to see he would give her his helmet and risk his own head instead of hers. But it only helped so much, mostly to cover her face which she was sure was a hilarious mixture of fear and exctiment.

Today it seems different though. He puts on his black helmet with reflective visor, acting as if he has forgotten about her safety, then he searches for something in his dark green manpurse. For a second she thinks he's looking for his keys, and then he pulls out an object bigger than the bag itself. The scene is almost — no, it is fully cartoon-like!

Clawdeen has no idea how he does it, but now in front of her there is a helmet — deep purple with a tinted visor, kind of like a golden rainbowish mirror — held out for her. Apparently he thought of her a lot. Or maybe it is a coincidence? They got the same taste in colors after all, with black and purple as the predominant color scheme in most their ensembles.

Maybe is both.

Taking it, she swings her left leg over the bike and remembers how insecure she felt the first time, with nothing but a narrow strip of seat beneath her. The part that stll bothers her is the wind blowing her skirt. She slides the helmet over her precious wild curls — it ruins her hair a little, but it's better than having the wind blowing on it and she always has time to fix it later — and strapps it under her chin.

"Is it hard to drive?" she asked that night. Yet, he knew that what she really meant to asks was _Is it safe? 'Cause I ain't got a life insurance._

With a smirk, he replied "You'll see," while he laughed softly. "But first you gotta relax. You're so tense, that is no way to enjoy the ride."

When he pulls out of the parking space, the explosion of movement startles her just like the first time.

She holds on to his vest with just enough of the fabric between her fingers to keep herself steady. "I forgot how it was," says under the helmet."

Clawdeen wraps her arms around him in a backward bear hug. Tight enough for him to feel her breasts on his back and he is not uncomfortable by this kind of contact.

 _So that's why? I knew he wasn't being gallant just for the fun of it._

 _Now, hold on. Just because he is a man, it doesn't mean he is a perv. Not all men are pervs… said nobody ever!_

 _Well, I suppose that's instant karma, do something nice, feel something nice._

"Hold tight," says Keith as he accelerates onto the highway, Clawdeen's thighs squeez around him, she is a little startled. She hopes to be the only one who noticed, though she knows he felt it.

 _I'm begining to believe he didn't offer me a ride out of gallantry, as much as he wanted to get a small laugh at me_ , thinks Clawdeen as they move on the streets barely staying under the speed limit, darting across the traffic, dodging cars as if it were a game, she can't deny that she is still a little scared of riding on a bike, but then again it is that kind of good scare, the kind of thrill that makes you feel glad to be alive.

In less than fifteen minutes they get to her house, Keith reaches the driveway then brings the bike to a smooth stop, jolting Clawdeen even closer into him.

Unabashedly, she holds on to him to keep her balance while she climbs off. She hands him back the helmet.

"Thanks for the ride," says she with a genuine smile.

"Any time…" says taking off the helmet, staring at her for a moment, with his mouth open as if trying to say something, only he doesnt have the words yet.

"Is there something wrong?"

"I… uh…" _Damn it, this is much easier with my pills, or alcohol, oh wonderful liquid courage where art thou?_ he thinks before formulating the words. "Uh… What are you doing Saturday night?"

There is moment's pause with Clawdeen gazing at him in silence. "What are you doing Saturday night?"

"What?"

"You got any plans?"

"Well… yes," says without much excitement for them. "I have a date with the usual."

"The usual? That means the ghouls, right?"

"Homework. Although it is hardly a date, can't do much of it now, I'm still grounded for —"

"Cancel." He cuts her off.

"What? I can't cancel on homework. And I can't believe I ever said that."

"I… a while back, when we were… when I asked for your help I said I would take you somewhere pretty if you helped me then."

"Yeah, I remember," says with a heavy feeling in her stomach by the memory of Holt's death, quickly countered by a fluttering feeling inside her. One she usually gets around Keith. "You said you would take me out and give me a good time."

"Yes I did, and I'm usually a stand up guy who always comes through with his word. Yet, I haven't been able to do so. I —"

"Are you asking me out?" she cuts him off this time, half-excited, half-surprised. "You wanna… take me out on that date?"

"Well, I didn't call it a date, it was you, but… that was the deal. I said I would wait till you feel like you could but… I would like to take you out now… that is if you still want to. You kmow, as friends."

Clawdeen tries to hide her surprise and elation.

"Keith… I would love to, but I can't. I'm still grounded for being at that party, so I don't think my parents would allow me. I can only leave the house to go to school, anywhere els, only if I go with them and they are the worst third wheel ever," says with true regret in her voice.

"Ah, ok…" he looks down with a very obvious look of disappointed in his eyes, like a very sad puppy.

Second time today she can tell how he feel, she's in a row.

"But we can go to the Halloween fair tomorrow," she announces quickly.

"Halloween is on Friday."

"I know, we are doing a two days fair this year. It is a school thing, so basically I wouldn't disobey them, I don't think they'll say no. Also, they got no choice but to go, I _am_ part of the group in charge of organizing everything, I _have_ to be there. We can go together… if you want."

"I would, but I think I got a better idea."

"What would that be?" queries with intrigue alight inside her.

"We could meet at the fair, or, alternative plan," there is a very brief silence. _Damn it, just say the first thing that pops to your head, just like when you're drunk_. "and I'm sure you'll love this 'cause you're a certified born rule breaker —" she throws him a sly grin "— you tell your parents you're going to the fair, which you will, we walk around for a while so people can see you and say you were actually there doing… whatever is it you do, and then you leave with me to this brand new, super fancy fusion restaurant right at the schism of town, you know where the human ghetto ends and the monster ghetto starts and _vice versa._ It is the kind of place where monsters and humans can gather in the open and socialize, they way it should always be. You know, no judging stares for humans and monsters _couples_ — or _friends_ eating together, very Millennial, only they got a strict dress code, so no hipsters allowed," he spouts wildly, just as if he were drunk or using his medicaments. "It's become quite popular and… you deserve a better first date experience than the last one."

She smiles. "And you would be the one who can give me that?"

"Sweetie, it's me you're talking about, if anyone can give you the time of your life… that's me," says sounding as cock-a-hoop as when he is under the influence.

"Oh, you think so?" asks arm-crossed and expectant.

"I know so."

Clawdeen leans over, taking a small step as she gently lays her hands over his shoulders, moving closer to him, bearing her fangs with a sly smile plastered on her wickedly pretty face, her auburn locks brushs against his face, hers inches from the boy's neck — the effect is both alluring and threatening (one of the things he likes about her) — as she whispers in his easr: "Well, congratulations. You got yourself a date, see you tomorrow."

"Great."

She gives him a kiss on the cheek before he leaves, just like last time, only this feels even more tender and loving.


	25. Chapter 25

XXV

4:38 P.M.

Some bar at New Salem's monster side.

"You boys are making this though on me for sure." Toralei says, leaning onto the pool table, wiggling her tail and shaking her buns.

 _If my friends could see me right now they would probably ask what the fur is Toralei doing in this kind of place? A place so beneath me, I know, where the smell is cigarettes and beer mix in the air, lingering all around me, a stench that makes me wanna puke, and then again I doubt any of them would recognize me with this look and the poor green lighting of the place, which is what makes the Leprechaun's Wee Pub the perfect place for me to hunt._

"We warned you, kitten." _That old gargoyle dude says with a big arrogant smile and a cigar in his mouth, as if he isn't breathing enough smoke to drop death of cancer this week. "This is a grownup's game." His voice is so deep and hoarse, it feels like sandpaper to my ears._

 _Those pathetic fools. Think they can really beat me, that they can get the best of me, that somehow they're good at this. They're really not._

"You were supposed to go easy on me. I said it is my first time. Do you know what that means? It means I've never done this before."

 _Bank it left. Send one to the side pocket. Split the other two, not that hard._

 _Yes, I have done this before. They treat this like a real adult's game, but is really not. It always seemed to me like a child's play. Maybe because I've been playing it since I was a child myself._

 _Those idiots looking at me as if I were really as easy as I pose before them, some men are so guileable I actually feel bad for how easy it is to fool them, I mean it is really, really so easy. All I need is to put on a mini skirt (for some reason denim seems more distractive), and a see-through shirt, or a skimpy tank top underneath my leather jacket and whatever capacity they had for thinking is gone. It works better when I take off the jacket, but I don't think I need to go that far today._

The two monsters look at her with desire brimming in their eyes.

 _Of course the way they look at me is disgusting, undressing me with their stare, as if I wasn't showing enough fur. I come in here feeling half naked — not that it really bothers me. I'm comfortable in this outfit actually, I would dress like this at school if I could, but apparently there is a dress code that applies to some more than others_ … _looks like you can only set the bar so low before others complain_ …

 _Whatever_ …

 _I'm more than happy with my body — I love it and I don't have any complex with it like some people — but then they look at me and they make me feel like I'm fully naked and well, even I gotta draw then line there (I mean being naked by myself or with somebody I like is a whole other thing), but then again that's the whole point, to get their eyes all over me, focusing on what they want to lay their hands on, so they won't notice when I lay my hands on what_ I _want._

 _Although the worst part is the smell, I got used to the smell of beer, sometimes I even miss it, but the smell of cigar, is the worst, last thing I want is to die for second hand smoke. I had to get some special nose filters online, they can't even notice them. Now instead of holding my breath, I get to breath through my nose. Problem is I can't allow myself to yawn, which is difficult when I talk to the dullest and thickest excuse of men this backwards town has to offer. Like them._

 _Can't even notice I fail the shot on purpose. Get them to believe they're the ones who know about this game._

 _My game._

"What was that?!" _his rugaroux fella shouts. That southern accent. Louisiana, New Orleans. It gives it away, it is the same as Operetta, only but more nasal. That, and the fact rugarous are only from Louisiana._

 _That name sounds so made up._

"I just did what my friends told me to do with this wood thing." _I say as innocently as I can, but not too much, I don't want to overplay my hand. Exaggeration is the best way to blow things up_. "I started with the tip."

 _The gargoyle laughs, he is big and round, bigger than my ex and if their inability for thinking is really proportional to their size, a lot dumber_. "Pretty sure they were talking about a different kind of game and a different kind of wood."

"An' a different type o' balls," _cracks the rugaroux, so creative_. "Gimme that. Ma turn to show you how it's done."

"Sure thing, Remy." _I hand him the club, and I get close enough to him, just enough._

 _I don't even know if that's his name, and I don't really care. So I just gave them a name by myself_.

 _The skinny one with the dumb hat is Remy and the other one is Crabbe. Then fat and the skinny, just like every bad comedy duo._

"Now we're using nicknames? What should I call ya?" _He smiles flashing a three gold fangs, how tacky_.

"Jessie." _…and the Pussycats Dolls._

"All right, Jessie. Lem'me show ya how is done. See, it's all about the angles." _Brags like he is a pro._

"That's a fine watch." _Look at it. A Bvlgari is about 12.000 $, and he is showing it off here…_

"You like it? It's a Bvlgari, it costs about twelve thousand dollars, but I got it in a bet last Summer."

"I think it's a dope watch." _I think he is an idiot if he hasn't noticed it's a fake, or maybe he knows and expects people to be stupid enough to think it is a real deal_

 _This bar isn't exactly a magnet for smart men. But I have come to like it… a lot. The bartender has a redhead fetish, so he gives me drinks half the price. Sometimes when I get a little too kind, is free. I got a black wig and spray dye today, though — is our little secret! But the real reason I kike it is that is the kind of place that barely bothers to see your ID. Of course, I'm already eighteen, so I no longer need that fake license that says I'm barely twenty._

 _His face lit so much when he saw I was actually younger than I first said. I love it when a guy thinks he has a chance with a ghoul that is just way out of his league. They're usually pervs like them who think every young ghoul is just waiting to get wasted with an old guy that is just like their father. Is funny they think we all got the same issues, or that we can't handle our liquor, which ever since that night I have to drink with a special straw that changes color if it is tampered, thanks for the life lesson Keith… That's actually a fella I would like to get wasted with: cunning, shrewd, handsome, manipulative and not above bragging. In other words: a real dick. Just like this little pussy likes it._

 _Personally, I always preferred a guy who is actually handsome, young and most important: not disgusting._

 _The next part is so boring and I've been through it so many times. The guy makes a few good shots and acts like it is a big deal, then is my turn and I act like he just taught me something new._

 _Then is the other one's turn. I let the gargoyle get close to me while he shows me the right possition to play, just enough to get my tail inside his jackets without him knowing. Something I learned from my time with Rock, they got the sensitivity of a rock, so they don't notice when a tail or a soft paw slithers inside their pockets and takes away their money._

 _I just don't get it, why they keep their money clipped instead using a wallet? Although maybe he isn't that dumb, he knows not to bring credit cards to this kind of place. Just for being able to think that much, I'm giving you your money clipper back, but I'm keeping the money._

 _The rugaroux on the other hand, seems like the only thing worth on him is that fake watch and the rings on his fingers. I tried stealing rings before, not as easy as I presumed._

 _I eventually gave up on them, they always get stuck in their finger. Probably they can't even take them off if they want._

 _An hour later, I leave with 1.421 $, most of them in hundreds. Turns out the rugaroux had a wallet with quite some money in his jacket and some credit cards, which I easily pickpocketed while he was busy looking at my breasts, almost eating them with his eyes. I even got the vibe that he was in fact thinking of eating me. That's when I decided it was time to leave, when you feel they are literally after your meat and you got all the money they had, then you should call it a night._

 _I dropped the wallet somewhere near the bar, hoping he would think he dropped it. I'm nice like that.._

5:42 P.M.

One of the best things about today's phones: voice command!

Don't know how did people ride bikes and talked on their phone before its inventio and Bluetooth headphones. Now: "…call Dee-Dee."

 _"Calling Dee-Dee_."

God, I love technology!

"Keith, where the hell are you?" he sounds mad. Oops.

"Why, you need my help with homework?"

"Don't start. I thought we were doing _this_ together."

"Because you can't do anything on your own. Am I right? You're so needy."

"I… that is a little hurtful, considering I am the one who has been tracking Richard's movements. Alone!"

Now he sounds offended, I love it.

"Which isn't that hard when you got a list of his next targets. All you gotta do is keep an alert for their deaths."

"Right, because is just that easy."

I know it is, three of them, big corporative figures of the monster community have gone missing, two in rather mysterious circumstances. Pretty sure it was Dick.

"Look, my task is to crack his spell, you are the one who should be looking for him, predicting his movements, tracking him wit Google Alerts, hacking databases, whatever. You're the detective, I'm the magician."

"And pickpocket."

"Anyhow, I'm just calling you to let you know I'm not going to the shack today, or tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I… got plans that I need to set in motion, starting now."

"That could be anything from getting pictures of girls in the shower again, to killing a homeless guy." Because it is so much fun when they can't fight, like that's ever gonna get me the thrill I need. "As usual I will regret ever asking, but what plans?"

"I, uh… I might be… I had this arregement with Clawdeen, and well, I am taking her out for dinner tomorrow."

"I am sorry, can you say that again? Because I don't think I heard you well, you said you are having a date with Clawdeen?" he sounds surprised. Now I am a little offended.

The way he sounds, is almost like I am Mr. Gray taking out a high school student into his dungeon.

"Why are you so surprised? You know I… _like_ her, and… it was about time I did something, don't you think?"

"Well, what can I say? I am more than surprised to hear she said _yes_. To _you_. Of _all_ people."

Ha! Because I've never heard that one before.

"Now, why am I not taking that as an offense? Maybe because it is a sign of how jealous you are of my awesomeness? I mean, if I recall correctly, most of your girlfriends were after your dough, whereas I always get them for being amazing."

"Yet, you havent had as mqny as I have."

"True, but they _liked_ me," which is something I can't really say about many people, really.

"Then how comes all your relationships fail?"

That, that right there is why I always feel I'll end up killing him.

"Those girls were not fit for me. Clawdeen on the other hand is way beyond them. She is special. Besides, I'm the most terribly handsomest and smartest guy ever, why would she say no?"

"I see you're drunk again. But I thought you said you guys were just friends."

In that moment all cars around me stop. Must be a red light ahead, last thing I need is another ticket.

"Well, I haven't said otherwise, we're going out as friends."

"Where to?"

"To… that place. The new one."

"That sounds to me you want to end the night as more than friends. You really think you got any chances with her?"

I don't know.

"I… I'm not jumping to conclusions yet."

"So you will be taking things slowly? That's either a real improvement, or new pills working wonderfully."

"Both. I've made a lot of progress with this new therapist, and the new pills actually help me overcome anxiety better than alcohol. If only I didn't have to talk to the other who is actually good at _undoing_ all my progress. Can't believe I got to talk to D'eath about how I feel for killing people."

"Yeah. I am sorry about that."

"Don't be. If I hadn't done it, I probably wouldn't have a date tomorrow.," see, kids? Killing people has its bright side. "It was something that had to be done," it doesn't mean I _have_ to like it so much.

"And what exactly are you doing right now?"

"Right now I'm picking up a friend. I feel like giving rides today, wish me luck for tomorrow. Bye luv."

And here it is, the Leprechaun's Wee Pub. It looks like my kind of whole. If things don't work tomorrow, maybe I can come here and try some luck. Although the black werecat standing on the door suggests otherwise.

"Now, what took you so long? Got any idea how long I waited?" she asks trying to sound upset, but unable to contain her smile.

"Toralei Stripes, with no stripes and a new dye job I see. I must say this black cat look works better for you than the Goldie Locks look, specially with the purple highlight."

"Thanks, but don't grow too fond of it. It's only for tonight," says getting on my bike with unhurried ease, and then wrapping me with her arms just like Clawdeen did earlier today, only she feels a lot more comfortable doing this. "Love the vest too by the way. I wonder how you look without it, though."

"Thanks, I had to give leather a break, having a different look, like you."

"Now, if you'd be so kind to get me outh of here."

"Sure thing, sweetie. Lucky I crossed _your_ path."

"Lucky _mew_."

She really feels a lot more comfortable on a bike than Clawdeen. Not the slightest flinch when I start running, same as Selina, I wonder if it's a cat's thing?

Her boobs also feel a lot more…

"You forgot to put on a bra today?"

"Forgot? That wouldn't be the word, since that implies I had intention of wearing it," explains with an arrogant smile that looks kinda sexy on her face and malicious in the mirror. Is then when in see the gargoyle and the rugaroux running out of the bar after her.

"Friends of yours?"

"More like acquaintances. I was working before you arrived."

"So that's why you asked for this hour to pick you up? You needed me as your get away bike."

"What can I say I haven't said before? I'm a naughty kitty," she purrs softly into my ear, hugging me tighter, pressing herself against me. And I swear I cannot help to feel like I'm getting a boner.

Oh, don't judge me! Try to feel a nice pair of boobs _au nature_ on you back and a soft whispering voice in your ear without getting turned on! Specially when you got a thing for whispers and boobs… My exes are right, I am a terrible human being.

But as they always say in Monster High: embrace your _freaky flaws_ , be your _yourself_ , be _unique_ , be a _monster!_

Hmm… I still got issues with their slogan, can't help to feel it might give the wrong message to _some_ people, but it could be worse, it could be a horrible and dumb pun with no real meaning behind. At least the thought behind this one means well.

Four hours later, we're far away from the bar, and deep inside the catacombs. What we're about to do is something I'm sure, despite her reputation, she hasn't done yet, with anyone. All she knows is that we shouldn't and that's enough for her to go this far blindfolded, but when she sees the catsuit and the balaclava masks I had stashed in the tunnels, she gets an idea of what this might be.

"Now masks and jumpsuits, you really are into some freaky stuff, aren't you?"

She smiles again, that same arrogant and beautiful smile with her green eyes narrowed like my cat's, both her smile and her gaze steaming malice. Is it wrong that we got the same smile?

"I am, now what we're about to do is something you probably haven't done yet."

"Test me. Whath is it you wanna do that you need my help? Are we robbing a bank?" asks with elation.

She was so close to get the right answer.

"No, this," I throw her a normie magazine with an open page, her green eyes barely flickered toward me, and she pushed a glossy purple hair strand out of her face while she reads.

"New Salem's hottest bachelors? Ok, I think I need a little more here."

"Page 32." I point at the one with the big red circle around a super rich and handsome young fella. The kind of guy whose face I would love to break with my fists.

"Axel Burlington? I don't know who that is."

"Of course you don't, he is meaningless."

"Then why…"

"He's my fast pass to having the perfect evening with that one special ghoul."

"Aaww, you're going to steal from a rich man to give her the night she deserves," she leans over me with desire lurking behind her vlice. "That's so sweet, if only it were me you're talking about. I am so jealous of whoever she is, I wish I were her."

"It's Clawdeen."

"And now I'm not." And just like that, her mood goes from… horny I guess, to so-not-buying-it. Fickle things the cats are. "Just help me understand, because i am sure the connection is something I can't see thanks to my not super genius brain. So tell me the logic here, how does the only child of a billionaire resort owner get you anywhere near having a good first date with _her?_ " she asks, and I think she spat some jealousy on my face. "Are we stealing money from his safe?"

"Trust me. It is better than that, we're doing that and more."

"I believe we've already established that I don't trust you. The same way you don't trust me, which is the reason why I like you so much." Now that's a good basis for a relationship.

She leans on me again.

"I believe we've also established that you need me to graduate high school. And the same goes for you, which is why in brought you here. As ypu might have noticed we are very much alike, and there is no one else I would like by my side on this," I take a step closer to her. "We both seek the kind of thrill that others would reject, the high that comes with breaking the rules and making our own, of wrecking havoc and mischief, it is our drug of choice. And here I am giving you an opportunity like you'll never have in you life again: the chance to steal from a man who has so much, he won't even know he's missing." I whisper into her pretty cat ears.

Her tail waves slowly between us.

She purrs with interest again. "Ok, I'm listening again. But how are we doing it?"

"Did you know about the guys who broke into various celebrities mansions and stole their clothes? Happened a few years back, even got a movie. Those overrated stars didn't really notice their clothes missing, because they only wear them once and never looked for them again. They got plenty to spare, to give those who don't have and yet they keep it to themselves — all of it! They got caught eventually, and I respect them for what they did. If they had been smarter, they would keep living the big life at their expenses. Now how would you like to do just that? To break in the mansion of an arrogant rich normie and get away with more than just money and nice clothes?"

"You were right, I have never done something like this before. I am more of sneaking into pockets and purses. But breaking into a man's house and steal from him…"

"Sweetie, this is not simple bulgary. Any brute can take a weapon and force somebody to give away their money. This is _thievery_ , an art in its own right. True theft is intimate, precious, it binds us with its beauty. What I want to steal is more than material, is something they can't live lacking. I have the perfect plan to take what they can't take back, to get away with a most valuable possession that would leave a void in him. Are you in?"

"Breaking and entering, thievery. You really know how to tempt a ghoul into sin, Mr. Morningstar." She smiles again, she is in. "If I were not already a sinner myself I would be turning my tail, but I do like the idea of taking from the rich and arrogant. I can't help to hate him already just for being super rich. But how are we getting inside his mansion in the first place?"

"Axel spends most of his nights at an underground casino in New Salem. All the while his house is empty, except for his guard dogs and… guards. The guy lives in the wealthiest part of town, on the human side, which has super strong surveillance, specially on the main gates, so isolated from the monster community, that he doesn't believe there is any monster who will try to steal from him. As far as he is concerned monsters are meaningless. In fact he thinks he is so above us the common folks, his security is utterly poor considering his money, then again that's how they stay rich, by being cheap. That's where you and I come in."

As I being to explain her the plan, I can see those green cat eyes striated, in shades of emerald and malachite and unholly green. The light of my lantern makes them shine like a curse. They shine with malice and expectancy for the upcoming mischief. My eyes fix into hers, and I see I have found a perfect — rather — fitting partner… in crime, a kindered spirit.


	26. Chapter 26

XXVI

Toralei listens to his every word, with an attention all her teachers would kill to get from her, or from any student for that matter, her emerald feline eyes staring deeply into his eyes sparkling with mischief and the joy of getting something they really wanted, those sharp and intense silvery-blue eyes (or are they bluish-silver? Don't think there is a difference, she still thinks they're green thanks to his yellow shades).

For her it is pleasure of stealing something bigger than a wallet or a concert ticket, the chance to steal money like she never thought she would, for him it is more personal than anything, he wouldn't tell her what his deal is though. Doesn't matter. Not only is a devilry like he has only dreamt of, it is a message to all those selfish bastards rich men who steal from the poor and cement their richness in their misery, those who only live to take and never giving: not any more.

10:12 P. House, Clawdeen and Howleen's room.

Staring indecisive, Clawdeen ponders what should I wear tomorrow?

Whatever her reasons are, a woman will always have a good deal of seductive clothes in her closet from which to choose for _that_ special occasion, and that special man, or woman.

And Clawdeen, oh Clawdeen has that in abundance, and maybe that is the problem here, she has so much she can't decide what to wear. She possesses an assortment of dresses and ensembles like very few ghouls do, most of them designed by herself. She has always lived by the _motto_ dress to impress. But a true irony it seems, she has rarely used in a real date. She has always been so busy with school and all her crazy adventures, to ever worrying about dating. Not to mention her overprotective brothers who always —

 _No! No! Knock it off with the excuses for her! She doesn't know how to date. Period! This is on her! No guy has ever had the balls to ask_ her _out in a date, and when a guy in whom she is interested asks her out, she jut get the cod feet, her of all people!_

That is so not true. She has dated twice, once with that vampire guy Thad — _and a bad idea it was_ — and then there was that other time she kinda dated the Gorgon g — _another terrible, even worse idea it was. Just look how they both ended, one spent six weeks stalking her and the other_ — I think they're friends now.

 _Barely. And this is more ammo for my arsenal, she has only dated twice and she doesn't know how to pick them! These stupid kids today with their stupid "confusions" and inability to choice then right person in a date. I mean, sure not all relationships or dates work out, but to waste that much sex appeal and time doing anything but dating,when you know you can have nearly anyone in a room. And yet you don't?! Like why?!_

 _If you can hear me, and with those big ears you better, tell me why would a frightfully tall ghoul like you, with such remarkable qualities and such incredible, if not desirable and enviable look, would stay single for so long?_

 _Ad don't say I this because you have found the right one, because you can't find them if you don't try._

Do you realize how _stupid_ you are sometimes? Yet, you're right, what's your problem, ghoul? How hard is it to have a date when you're one of the hottest chicks at school?

You know what? I don't wanna know, at least the dry period seems to be ending, but the problem remains, what she she wear for tomorrow? She doesn't even know where is he taking her so she can't know if she will be overdressed or underdressed there is a difference between dressing fabulously and dressing too much.

 _Well, he said it was a fancy place, so probably a night gown would be a good choice, I have a few I havent't worn in a a while_ , she thinks, looking at her _Black Carpet_ ensemble. _I remember this one, just freaky fabulous, just like all my other outfits. But ifnit was good enought to ewalknon the black carpet with Elissabat, it must be good enough for that restaurant. Then again, how_ fancy _is that place supposed to be? He couldn't even give me the name to check it out for myself. Maybe if I Google human and monster restaurant, New Salem. I don't think there are that many._

Teeming with curiosity, she Googles for that restaurant, and to her surprise there happen to be a lot more of those than she imagined, not just in Massachusetts, but all over the country. In short time she finds the place he was talking about.

"My, he wasn't kidding, that really is a place, and boy it _is_ fancy… and expensive. How is he gonna afford it?"

 _At least now i know i wont be overdressed_ , she thinks. Looking at the place, she gets an idea of what kind of night she might get tomorrow. And she even gets so excited, she feels like making a new dress special for this occasion, simply because she can. Only she can't, since she is sort on materials all because her parents won't let her buy new fabric

Staring at her short fabric supply, she mutters "Right now I hate them so much."

 _Well, I guess I will have to use an old one. Maybe I should try something a little simpler than my usual looks. What do I got that is not so off-putting, but that's stil sexy?_ Clawdeen grins, scanning with her eyes the content of her wardrobe, searching that one dress perfect for her first date with Keith. As a werewolf, she has an inborn talent for spotting details — same talent her ancestors and wildest cousins use for hunting, spotting the weakest member of a herd, and their weaknesses, only she has repurposed that gift for something more constructive, say finding the right materials for her dresses, the right tools, or, as in this case, the already made drsses she needs, hiding right at the bottom of her closet, behind all the other dresses she has worn at least once. In fact she found two dresses that waited for quite a long time for them to be used at last. Two black dresses that are just perfect for her date tomorrow. Sexy, elegant, and nothing too… extravagant, to make him uncomfortable. _Though he would probably be drunk, or under meds_ , she guesses.

One of them, a tight-fitting black dress with gold trimming around the hems, and golden embellishments around he V-neck which reveals little cleavage, thigh-high hemlines, revealing just enough of her legs, which are beyond any doubt, her greatest attributes.

 _She shaves her legs for a reason, to use them, and have everyone saying "look at dem legs!"_

Really? Y'know what? I'm not going there!

The second dress is actually an unfinished project, much longer than he other, and more _elegant,_ no boubt, with a slit on both sides to show off her fantastic and frightfully long legs, with gold around the hem of the slits and the neckline, which was very low,meant to show-off some shadows of cleavage (surely more than the other), and an open back — or rather no back at all.

And to go with both of them, a golden belt with the phases of the moon.

She meditates on her options for a moment. _I could either wear the one that's finished, or I could finish this other with my remaining black and gold fabric. Oh, whom are you kiddng, ghoul? You know you'll take any excuse to sew, specially tonight, besides you need it, it's been so long since we used a needle… I need to relax, it's been so stressing these days, with all that stupid homework, and the work organizing the school fair, and essays — so many essays! I can't imagine how Clawdia lives frighting them all the freaking time, is horrible! A cruel and unusual punishment._ She thinks, and as she does, she wonders, trying hard to remember why didn't she finish the dress.

Then two bigger questions come to her mind, one is how are they getting to the restaurant in the first place? Will he ride them there on his bike? 'Cause if he has that in mind, and she really hopes he doesn't, then using an long dress, or a dress at all, is a very bad idea.

The other question is how is she going to scape from the fair? Most likely Bloodgood will be watching them closely, so scaling might be difficult.

 _Well, he's the one who came up with that brilliant idea, so I'm guessing he must have a plan. He is always the man with the plan_. Says Clawdeen to herself, looking at her reflection with the dress over her body, imagining how it would look once it is finished, thinking what could she use to make it whole.

"It deadfinitely need more purple," says she in a very decisive voice. Lucky she still has enough purple.

"Clawdeen, get your ass down here!" Harriet shouts. "You got someone who wants to see you!"

"Great, just what I needed. More distractions."

Groaning, she walks downstairs, asking who it might be. She hasn't had many visits in these past few months.

"Look who's come to visit from all the other side of the world." Harriet says with a smile.

And imagine her surprise hen she gets to the living room and sees no other than her dear old sister Clawdia sitting on the sofa.

"Clawdia! You're here!" shouts Clawdeen in unrestrained excitement, hugging tightly her older sister whom she hasn't seen in person for quite the few years.

"Clawdeen, look at you. You look just the same as when we last met," she says with a smile. Her voice sounds different from how she remembers.

"Yeah, well. I'm already in that age when I stop aging." Clawdeen grins at her.

"Lucky. You got no idea how much I wanted to get there while I still looked as a teenager, but I didn't."

"Nonsense, you still look like seventeen. I bet if you go to Monster High tomorrow, you could totally pose as one of the students. Maybe even get enrolled again," she jokes. And in fact, Clawdia, her 22 year old sister still looks as a teenager.

Some people should be arrested for being so criminally super-young-looking, and hot.

"Yeah… I just graduated college. Last thing I need is to go back to the drudgery of high school. Although I could use some of the drama. I have ran low on inspiration thsse days."

"Yeah well, lucky you. Drama is all we got at school," says she with faint sadness in her voice. "The woes of youth I guess!" exclaims with with a smile.

"So not like Londoom, where everyone is so cold."

"You gotta tell me more about it." Clawdeen pleads.

"I see you ghouls got some catching up to do," their mom says leaving to the kitchen.

"Come. Let's go to the room so you can tell me all that's happened while I was gone. Specialty this year, and so I can tell you all about the Mother Land."

"Fine, but not promising you're gonna like everything you hear. Nice British accent."

"Well, live in Londoom long enough and you'll sound just like one of them too. Although I still prefer Scottish." Clawdia retorts.

"I prefer ours," says Clawdeen with a streak of pride in her voice, making their Brooklyn-like accent stronger.

"Good thing I haven't lost it yet." Clawdia speaks with her normal voice.

10:48 P.M.

"I still don't get this part of the plan." Toralei complains, walking through the catacombs in an parrt she never even imagined.

"I told you, once we get to the end, we'll go up, and over the distance left on the surface, using ghost sand from the bogie man." Retorts Keith.

""Why can't we go all the way as ghosts?"

"I like the challenge. Plus I don't trust you to listen when I tell you don't go astray messing with people while invisible."

"True." She admits with a smirk.

"We need to be inconspicuous. The catacombs end very near the area where the super rich live. Once there it will be an easy trip with no _distractions!_ "

"You really take the fun of it." She meows.

"We'll get fun at the end."

After tweeny more minutes of walking, they find the end of the catacombs, and Keith spread them both with ghost sand.

The change from Solid to Ghost is, in a simple word: weird. And tingly too, but weird the best word. The Loo's of body weight down to absolute zero is really a new experience, to be one with the air, to be able to shove it up gravity's ass and drift away,moving your molecules through solid matter, while shifting the light reflected by your body into a _spectrum_ that no other eyes can see but your own.

 _The perfect power set for a thief_. Thinks Keith as the float into the mansion.

"So basically you're telling me you spent the night with that guy?" Clawdia points out, listening to every word her little sister has said about the recent events of Monster High, since the exchange program to Deuce's attack, and the murder of Jackson/Holt and the near death of Nefera, you go figure which details she spared. And naturally, all she has said about Keith.

"Really? All that story and that's your whole take away?" asks in faint surprise.

Both ghouls are sitting on Calwdeen's bed, with their legs crossed, as if meditating.

"That's the only part I can care about. I mean, sure, it's all tragic, one of your friends got his eyes plucked, but then he got them back! And sure another one died and he was worth two sacrifices, and then Nefera almost dies too, which honestly, well… I was never her fan," Clawdia confesses grimly but without remorse, her little sister silently agrees. "So best I can say is if she had died, I would have had no strong feelings on one way or another. But then you said you got a guy in your bed? Fur real? Now that's something I really want to hear."

"Well, yes. I couldn't just tell him to leave, it was flooding out there — and he came here just to see _me_. To make sure _I_ was okay."

"Real paragon," Clawdia says in low voice. "You spent the night with him, as in _sleeping together?_ " puts a particular emphasis in the last two words.

"Well, in the most _strict_ sense of the word, yes. We shared a bed — my bed was the only one in the room. Howleen's bed was being dewormed, and I couldn't tell him to sleep on the floor. Though he looks like the kind of guy who doesn't mind that, but I just couldn't do that."

"But you did not — you know — do anything? You really didn't have sex?" asks Clawdia at last.

"What? No!"

"Aren't you guys dating?" sounds a little confused.

"No! We're just… we're just friends," says Clawdeen in a defensive tone.

"Never said otherwise." Clawdia adds promptly.

"Felt like you did."

"But by the way you talk about him — and most important, the fact that you spent the night with him, I must ask don't you want to?" Clawdia continues in an inquisitive, but honest voice.

"I don't know, maybe? Is hard for me to tell how I feel about him. I _do_ like him, but sometimes he is such a pain in the ass, the most arrogant pain in the ass, but then he can be the _sweetest_ pain the ass — that's the only constant about him, one way or another he is always an pain in the ass."

"But you _like_ him. And is clear he _likes_ you a _lot_. Why else would he do what he did?"

"I don't know, why do men do anything?"

"Is it because he is a normie?"

"No, that's stupid. I never cared about that," says looking at her toe nails.

like that, though. Sure their business depends on normie's and he has no issues working with them or around them, but she has a strong feeling he is not very fond of the idea of a human dating his daughter. No guy is ever good enough for a man's daughter, even more so when they come from such worlds apart, worlds with such history.

Harriet on the other claw, she has no idea what her thoughts would be.

"Is it the looks? Believe me, I won't judge you if you say is the looks, that is always the ultimate deal-breaker," says in an almost derisive voice.

Clawdeen sneers wryly. "It isn't, trust me. He is very cute, kinda wild, edgy, and he's sort of pale, and he has that wonderful dark and brooding look… He is very good-looking actually, even though he doesn't know."

"How does a guy doesn't know he is cute?"

"Well, he only brags about his brains, I don't think he has ever bragged about being good-looking. Even though he really is, with that edgy scary look of his, even when he shows his nerdy side there is this… vibe, I don't think I can explain it. And he's got these eyes that just melt you in the inside," Clawdeen says with a dreamy glow in her eyes.

" _Melt_ you in the inside? Ghoul, I think is clear how you feel about him," Clawdia smiles at her. "Let's see how things go in your date."

"What? I didn't tell you we got a date tomorrow."

"Then I assume is just you and your friends planning to have dinner at that super fancy place," she points at her screen. "And of course those dresses made to show-off your legs, and seduce men, they're just standard issue when you're fanging out with your friends."

"I… well — is just a dinner. We're only going as friends, really."

"Right, because men just _love_ to have dinner with women who are just their friends. Come on. You just told me he came here to see _you_ , in the middle of a _storm_ , only to make sure _you_ won't get hurt by a _serial killer_. And then you spent the night with him." Clawdia whispers so their mother won't eavesdrop them. In fact, the whole conversation has been in half whisperers. "Plus you said he can be real _sweet_ too."

"Pain in the ass, a sweet pain in the ass, but yeah," says with a faint smile.

"They always are. So maybe this is more than just dinner. Besides, when has a ghoul said no to a bad boy?" Clawdia adds with a little laugh at the end.

"I guess I _always_ liked a bad boy…" Clawdeen smiles weakly, while she remembers that day he confessed her with his darkest secret, "and is not like we are that different."

In fact they don't, his inner darkness struggling inside him to reach out to the light and his fight to control it, is very much like her struggle with the animal she is inside, a beast that grows wilder and stronger, pounding the walls of her soul every full moon night.

"Don't worry, I bet — I bet you can _change_ him," her sister laughs.

"Well, he isn't _that_ bad."

He _isn't_ , she _has_ to believe that.

"If you believe that."

She has to believe that he can fight it, he can fight the beast — that darkness inside him, that she can help him.

"He is quite a bad boy, alright? But as I said he is also quite a nerd himself. He brags about being so damn smart all the freaking time, but that's because he _is_ so damn smart. A real bonus I must say. I don't know, I guess I… _like_ that part of him too. That he is so much smarter than all the other guys, never liked the idea of dating a guy who is all looks and no brain — or all brains and no look — guess he's got the whole package," she sneers. She knows he really isn't, but she likes him that way, "and he is so unpredictable! You never know how things are going to be with him. I mean, just today he asked me to give him some of my blood for a biteology project where he has to watch and study the blood cells from a classmate and he said he could only think of mine to watch. And he was really happy doing that sciency stuff, happier than I have ever seen him actually."

"Wow, he studied your blood, that is… I don't know if it's cute, weird, or creepy."

"How about a bit of all?" Says innocently.

"I usually like to go with C, can never do wrong like that, but if you wanna go with D, fine! Let it be all of the above, I never thought I'd live to see the day when _Clawdeen Wolf_ finally falls for a guy, and a would be Mad Scientists of all. But at least he isn't drinking it." Both werewolf girls chuckle for a while. "Are you sure he isn't planning to make a clone of you?"

"Nah, he said if he did, I would no longer be _unique_."

" _Aww_ , now _that's_ really cute. You should go with the short dress, by the way," suggests suddenly.

"Ah?"

"The short dress, you should go with it, trust me. It's better for that place."

"I was actually thinking of using the long one. Of course, it needs some work —"

"That slit dress is nice if you are going to a ball." Clawdia cuts her off. "Trust me on this one, is too classy. That place is fancy, but is not _that_ fancy."

"I am not so sure about that," says Clawdeen with a cautious voice. "You know olive by the _motto_ dress to impress."

"Hey, I might not be a _fashionista_ , but I know more about _dating_ than you do. And for what you've told me about him, you have already made quite an impression on him, so no need to overdo. Better to save for a gala evening or… the opera."

"Fine, I will listen to the one whose _first_ and _only_ relationship ended up a month later."

"First of all I have had more relationships than I let you nor our parents know. Secondly: dating Romulus was a mistake; but it doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about, quite the opposite. It means I got more experience and I know about it. And I _got_ quite more _experience_ at dating than you."

"So no chance you guys get together again?"

"Never!" Clawdia spouts quite effusively.

Both girls giggle giddily.

"I doubt he would ever take me to an opera, by the way. I'm pretty sure he would snore in the first ten minutes of the first act, and the only reason I would scold him is because I did the same the first five minutes."

"Oh, how uncultured, these kids today get me on the nerves" says taking her claw to her chest with the best histrionic voice (a very comically exaggerated voice) in with her best British accent. "I guess you will wear it when Clawd and Draculaura finally get engaged. I'm pretty sure that ghoul will throw a rehearsal party that's just as big as a real wedding."

Clawdeen sneers. "That would be an understatement."

"Where is Howleen, by the way?"

"Said she was going to the movies with some friends. She really is on a date with some random guy. She's become quite popular this year, she's even had more dates than me." Clawdeen says bitterly, upset that Howleen gets to be out way past midnight, getting home whenever she wants.

"Actually it is 'than I.'" Her sister corrects her.

"I already got Keith to teach me grammar, don't need you for that too," says Clawdeen peeved.

"Sorry, writer's habit."

12:17 A.M.

Haunting their way into the mansion with boogie man sand was the easy part, stealing his clothes was easier now the really hard part is to find what he really came here to steal. For Toralei just anything valuable —anything that glitters, that is to say silver, gold and platinum jewelry — is a god hit, but for him, he needs a little more.

"This guy's fiancée really has a good life going on here," says appearing over Keith's shoulder while he tries to open the digital safe box.

"Rich people usually do, that is why I hate them." Says coldly while the safe opens.

 _Ha! And these idiots believe using the pattern security system is better than the traditional code. Then again, I'm always the best at what I do._

In there he finds a few passports, small cash stash just for emergencies, 200.000 $ to be accurate, and a small key.

 _The thief's price_.

"That's what you came here for? A key?" Toralei asks in disbelief.

"And the cash, don't see why not take it now is in front of us," says putting the key inside his jacket, and the money in the bag. "Believe me, if you knew what we came looking for, you would run with your tail between your legs," says with a glitter in his eyes, malice? No, something different… but what could it be, she can't figure out.

"Yeah, whatever," says with fake indifference to hide how hurt she is. Thinking there is something that can be too much for her? How dare he?

"Now, for our prompt scape, how would you like to add grand theft auto to the list?" he asks, poking her intrigue.

Silently, they glide their way to the garage, where there is a large collection of vehicles, the kind you watch in a movie but you'll never ride in real life.

"I say we take the Bugatti." She suggests.

Keith replies with a smirk. "Ghoul, it is you."

"But let me hotwire it."

"Fine, but I'll drive. I'm the one who knows the way."

With an expertise worth of a masterclass, she starts the engine of the vehicle, everything seems to be going smoothly, except the roar of the engine draws the attention of the guards, who come in shouting. But much to their misfortune, it was to late to stop them, they had already phased through the gate and ran onto the road.

Keith drives the Bugatti too fast — faster than he has ever driven a car, given he doesn't really drive cars, bikes were his passion. But that does not mean there are not cars that called to him, and the Bugatti, oh this car is shouting at him. The car has always been a chained lion in a cage of class and steel, forced to seat quiet and look pretty, barely used. And now, now it is finally running through the jungle for which it was always meant to run.

Running away from a master that has chained it, a life as a trophy. If the car had a mouth, it would be shouting in joy the way Toralei does with her head out of the window, mocking the guards chasing them.

So long for stealth.

 _Fuck stealth!_

That's right! He's got his price now, and he would know it's missing, better make it out with style!

Ace of Spades by Motorhead playing as loud as the sound system can.

A pointless and futile effort to capture two thieves that were never there. With the bogeyman's sand he has become the bogeyman of rich kids only he shows up to take your cars and other precious belongings.

In bafflement, the guards look how the car vanishes into the night, and would never guess it would reappear right beneath the town, into the catacombs.

Soon they change back to their real form.

Breaking into a rich man's mansion, stealing their jewelry, running off from the guards in a stolen car. This is by far and away the most exciting night Toralei has ever had.

Her heart beats wildly, her blood saturated with adrenaline, dopamine and so many other chemicals she has no idea work together to create this feeling she has running deep her marrow — Keith feels it too, that feeling that craves for more —and she wants more, so much more!

Thus she jumps upon him, without thinking it once, kissing him, bitting his lips… and he kisses her back, deeply… with tongue… with just a kiss she lets him know just how much she _needs_ this, how much she _wants_ him… his hand slither around her waist…


	27. Chapter 27

XXVII

30 October.

Dreadful!

All the last weekend! And all throughout the following week, Lagoona and her ghoulfriends have worked on the plans and the setting for the Halloween Fair of this year, which includes a Haunted House for their human invitees — If that is a sign of anything, is that their relationship has improved despite the atrocious events that happened last month and the exchange program seems to be a success. But with all the extra work, she never has enough time to be with Gil the way they used to, and that's frustrating, because she misses his touch so much, but even more frustrating is Gil himself. She knows he still loves her, not only he says it every time, she can also sense his love for her, his passion — that sea-boiling passion they share, and that she thought dead once, still boiling inside him, as if it had been ignite again (again? As if it had died? No, that is — something she should have never thought, how silly to think his love could ever falter?). Yet, it feels distant, aloof, more than that, she could also sense him fighting it — and unexplained to her Gil refuses to be completely alone with her. And in many ways he has become a mystery to her, but not of the good kind, more like an anonymous package left on your doorstep that screams don't open it! It is clearly anthrax! Or maybe is it a bomb? Worse, an anthrax bomb!

But she has to! If she can't guess what it is, then she has to o open the package, even if it explodes in her face, and it might do that just as well before she opens is.

But why? Is it something so personal, so bad that he doesn't feel he can share it with _her?_ After all they have been through? What could it be?

She can only guess.

He rarely talks about his family so she wonders if it is his mother, has she fallen I'll again? If that is the case, why would he not tell her? To think of that reminds her of what a horrible ghoulfriend she was during the summer, but hey, sometimes we all need some time on our own, sometimes it can make a coup!e stronger, she read somewhere.

Anyhow, if it is his mother again, she _had_ to know.

So she asked.

But his answer was as positive as it was short.

Strange though, he wouldn't want her to visit her when she proposed the idea to him a few weeks ago. At one point she worries there might be a secret that his mother might spill, but then again maybe he doesn't, like the idea of her seeing his mother in such condition; battling cancer leaves horrible scars, some we can see, some we _can't_ see, some in our bodies and others deeper than flesh… but they all become a part of us.

I digress… back to her.

Why wouldn't he what her in his place as usual? What is he hiding? Those questions burn in her mind all week.

That morning they meet at the doors of the school, he kisses her in a way that puts all inquiries out of her mind. In that moment, Lagoona remembers what it is like to be truly happy. The good times were like that. But he had kissed her less and less frequently of late, and more often with his tank-helmet on, and she feels the distance between them widening, like a reef she can't dare to fathom.

So a new question forms in her mind, raising like the tide on a full moon night: if she felt this joy, why couldn't he feel the same now he is with her?

Raising their heads, they worry tonight's fair might get ruined, the sky is of a threatening shade of gray, the clouds holding a fair warning sign for the upcoming drizzle. Maybe it is just a tease. Or maybe it isn't. Truth is weather is more often than not, very hard to tell when you are around Monster High, quite like a cat's mood, very fickle.

It is unusually chilly for October, then again it is late in the month, its final days in fact, and the trees surrounding the quiet street have already felt the nip of cold winds. The maples are blazing as a scarlet that does anything but warming the air and liting the road should the night fall at last, while the ginkgoes are radiant yellow as cold Suns dancing around them as they grow drier. Yes, it is more than fair to say they are deep in the Fall already.

That morning everything feels different, and in fact everything _is_ different. Last night _was_ different, so very much different. Abbey couldn't remember the last time she had such a good night sleep, but then again, saying she slept last night is an euphemism, if not a blatant lie.

Steamy windows are an unusual sight in her room. She had to be really careful this morning when she left for school, not only to sneak Heath out without Bloodgood getting suspicious, but to clean up every trace of their night together. God knows she needed a night like that for so long, and she was so glad that Bloodgood was out last night for some reunion with somebody, she didn't really care, all she heard was that she finally had a the chance to spend the night with Heath.

And that was quite a night, the kind of night that makes you feel like you're one with the world and everything is all right. And people noticed that, they couldn't quite figure out why is she in such a good mood, but they noticed the big smile in her face, flashing her icy white fangs. Some of her closest ghoulfriends had an idea though, a very good idea of why she is in such a good mood.

"Well, somebody had a good night sleep, eh?" Spectra says, gliding by her side.

" _Da_. Although Abbey didn't have much sleeping to call it a good night sleep." She replies with a coy smile heading to her locker.

In another time, she would have been a lot more cautious about talking such things with any of her friends, specially Spectra. But that — those were the old, or rather younger them. Now, now they have all changed, boy they _have_ changed a lot since the first time they ever came through Monster High's doors, even more so these pasts months. Some changes have been good, some have been bad, and some have been necessary (and if this were a comic, you would see a panel with last sentence where Operetta's father takes her into rehab just a few weeks ago, at last they came forth with the intervention, in case you wonder, since I couldn't show it I'll let you know for that you wanna have at least a parent, or in the lack of it at least a relative,probably a sibling or a cousin whom cares for you, and about five to seven friends. Trust me, I have been one of those seven, lucky she has to spare). And what can be done about that? Change is the only constant of the universe, it is a part of living, or for some of them, _unliving_.

Of course, the more the things change, the more they stay the same, at least for some people. For instance, she still hasn't learned how to use personal pronouns and talks about herself in third person, as if Abbey weren't Abbey, and Abbey weren't there.

"Will you ever learn how to use personal pronouns?" Twyla asks, jumping from a shadow in a corner, startling Abbey.

"Ah, will you learn not to jump on people from the darkness?" The Yeti girl says back.

"Ha, good one," she calls, "so why are you so smiley today? Asks Twyla as if she had no idea what you ghouls were talking about."

"I think Spectra's influence hasn't been good on you. Gossiping is a nasty habit." Abbey points out.

"Hey, no gossiping, just wanted to join the conversation. Isn't that what ghoulfriends do?"

"Maybe when you grow a little bit more," Spectra says with a faint tone of overprotective sister.

Twyla gives her a peeved look. "Right, treat me like a child, because I just love that." Says with lurking anger behind her voice.

"There is not much to talk about," Abbey sounds, "Heath and I just spent the night together… like couples do."

"Trust me, that's the best you're gonna get from her." Spectra whispers in Twyla's ear.

"It was a _nice_ night." Says with a smile and a dreamy glow in her purple eyes.

Even for a moment, the ghouls could swear they saw a few snowflakes with heart shape falling around her.

If only C.A. Cupid were here to see this new Abbey and to feel all the love that radiate some of these ghouls — and is not even Valentine's day —, but she is quite busy now with her own story. Not _hers_ only, but it is quite an _epic_ love story for another day.

And on the second floor, we got Keith Morningstar who for the first time in a long time in a long time doesn't hate the simple fact of drawing breathe. The dreadful pain of being alive is relished from him. For the first time in a long time, he is _blasé_ … I mean, how often do you get to steal from the rich and get away with it?!

Also the after-theft sex was pretty damn awesome!

But what really makes him feel whole is the fact that e stole from the mighty and they can do nothing.

It is the adrenaline rush he needed to feel alive again, to match the same high he got when he killed Richard… well, it didn't quite match it, but… it is more like comparing ice cream and cake, both delicious and addictive but different. And the sex was a good cherry on top. Of course… that wasn't the first time it happened, nor it was the second, more like some place above the third…

The first time was because she wanted him, the second time was because he wanted her… and the other times… more because he needed it.

Last night was more than just because they wanted to, but rather because they felt compelled by all the adrenaline in their bodies — they just needed more. Truth is they feel drawn to each other in a way they can't deny… a dark desire that he just can't fight.

He tires to say no. Every time he fights it… he fights her… and he is always angry… But it doesn't slow either of them down… and no matter his anger, he always gives in.

She is sin made flesh… pure temptation covered in soft fur… a rush he must have… a body he can't resist…

Still… it doesn't take long for any of them….

Yet, he knows better, and this thing they got is nothing more than sex, merely for the fun and pleasure of it. Is the only thing they could ever have. He knows it could never work even if they wanted something real, and he wants something real, just not with her. Luckily Toralei is more than happy with their _sex buddies_ arrangement.

Also the new pills he is taking are quite wonderful, no more worrying for his anxiety and it even helps him cope with his memories from that night. He hates the other for being able to cope with it so well, at least those of them who can. He knows Rochelle isn't quite untarnished, and Frankie just hasn't been herself these days. Those are the bad changes I told you about. Draculaura on the other claw, is coming back today, a little changed, but mostly herself. Much like Clawdeen who has managed to get back to her routine, minus the shopping and the constant sewing. But that is all on her parents.

"Only two more months until I can buy anything again," she said to herself this morning when she woke up.

"Only two more months of this ridiculous and pointless punishment. But until then, I gotta use what I already got for my date tonight."

And boy she is quite excited for tonight. She can't remember the last time something got her this expectant. Though to be honest she is more intrigued to see what his Master Plan is to get her out of the school's Halloween Fair. She also needs a plan of her own to change into her dress she can't wear that dress in the fair, chances are it gets ruined and people would get suspicious about in her plans. Best idea she can think of is leaving with her dress when she returns for the fair and then change in his room… on second thought, changing in one of the ghouls' room at school is a better call. Maybe Rochelle's. She can't say no to her, she is Rochelle! She unlives for this kind of romantic escapades, besides, she is the one who always teases her for not doing anything with Keith when is clear she wants to. Also, she is the one with the best make up at school. Yeah, that's what she is going to say when she asks her for that favor. As soon as she can find that gargoyle!

How come you never find the people you're looking for when you need to?

Outside in the parking lot, Howleen arrives in an old but really good car from the 70's, dropped by Romulus, the best friend of the family. Lucky she found him on the way to school. Clawdeen preferred walking. She isn't getting along with him these days, but her little sister is not the kind of ghoul who ignores a ride.

"Well, thanks for the ride," says gleefully.

"Hey, you know I'll give you one anytime," says with a big smile, his large canines flashing.

"You took longer than you should have, though."

"Yeah. Sorry about that," says trying to sound abashed.

"Don't worry, the bell hasn't gone off yet," says getting out of the car. "Hey, are you coming to the fair tonight?" Inquires innocently.

"I don't know," replies, looking prone. "I heard they'd be having normies, and — you know I don't hate them, but I don't like them either."

"Oh, come on, they're not all bad. I mean, you managed to get along with vampires, and even got to be friends with Draculaura."

"That is kind of a stretch," says getting a frown look from Howleen. "I mostly like her because she is Clawd's ghoul and your future sister in law. I don't really like people who sees the world through pink shades. And every time I look at her I feel my fangs are rooting."

Howleen giggles faintly. "Yeah, she can too sweet sometimes."

"Sweet enough to give your brother diabetes. I mean, I can't imagine what sex with her does to his blood sugar."

"Seriously though, you should come. We can fun together," says Howleen with a smile.

"I'll think about it," says almost in a growl, glaring at her — no, not at her, at the ghoul behind her: Gory Fangtell.

And with every ounce of malice, she glares back at him, with a sinuous — and insidious smile that suggests everything but good intentions

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she won't be there." She assures him.

"I hope so."

"So you'll be there?" Asks with her face alit.

"Yeah, I think I will. Got nothing to do tonight anyway."

"Great! See later then."

Grabbing her backpack, she rushes into the school hoping the bell won't ring, leaving Romulus behind to exchange deity glares with Gory. If there is a monster in this world that shares the same pride and passion for its own kind, that is Gory. And in the past those feelings for their own kinds have been know to ignite some disputes that grow like wildfires. In his last year that was quite literal.

Surely they could at times behave like civilized monsters around each other, and even if one made a remark, the other would either ignore it or deflect it with a better one, but their damned pride would always wait for any excuse to start a fight with the other. Funny thing is, it was only with each other, no other werewolf pressed her buttons like Romulus, and surely there is not a vampire that can ignite that same wildfire inside him like Gory.

It is like a chemical reaction, two highly combustible components that should not be together like water and sulfur, mix them together and you get a fiery mess you won't control.

The exact opposite of what his best friend has with Lala.

If Clawd and Draculaura's passion is born from their mutual love, then what they had is a passion born from their mutual hatred. And it burns strongly in their eyes right now.

"Looks like somebody's leash is missing," sounds with her malicious voice.

"Just ignore that buzzing mosquito," Howleen says darting past her.

Romulus stares fixedly at her. And oh boy, that fire is burning.


	28. Chapter 28

XXVIII

08:34 P.M.

The first class for Clawdeen today is Chemistry. Not her forte. Luckily she has her beast scientific ghoulfriend Ghoulia with her as study partner. Honestly she isn't even paying attention to the class, seriously, not even trying. All she can do is think of her date tonight with Keith. She stares fixedly at the clock on the wall wishing for time to go faster. For the fair to start so she can sneak out of it, of course she has to tell her friends about it first, to explain them why is she leaving all the work to them, then again they can't get mad at her, is a fair! How much work can they have in a fair? All they got to do is make sure people won't do anything stupid and daring that can bring forth terrible law sues against the school, because there is always an idiot who wants to litigate just anyone and crap on everyone's pie.

Keith on the other hand has Advanced Calculus with Frankie and Devon, or as they call it here AdvancedClawculus. And whereas he can ace this class as well as any other, truth is he doesn't have the brain for it today, or better said,he just doesn't care about playing with numbers, he prefers to focus on problems that truly affect people, those afflicted by… the sameflaws as him. Sure, this is a place where flaws are accepted and even celebrated instead of judged, but he doesn't see it that way. As far as he is concerned there are flaws that are not to be accepted, only corrected. But then again, he always thought of nanotechnology as a viable way to solve those issues, and he is pretty sure he will need to learn some very advanced math for it. Some things you can't just magic them away.

 _Or can you?_

No,you can't!

"Dude, I can't recall the last time I saw you without a hood on your head," Devi says from behind, surprised to see him wearing a different style today with white pants, and a black turtle neck with a large skull emblazoned on the chest. No jacket nor vest and incredibly no hood to hide his head. "I had forgotten what a big ass head you got," he laughs. "And you combed your hair twice in a week. Those pills are really doing a number on you."

"They sure are, Dee-Dee." Says lackadaisically

"Well, somebody's in a mood."Frankie says leaning to his right trying to copy his answers.

Keith closes his black notebook abruptly. "Yes,I am." He stares fixedly at the blackboard, then passes his note to Frankie so she can copy his answers.

"Thanks. I really can't get a hold of any of this, I should but I think my dad didn't put this much brain inside me — as I say that out loud I realizeI shouldn't have."

"Just copy the answers."

Grabbing the notebook, she sees it has written on front the words MATH NOTE in white, big,unbeautiful letters, not his usual beautiful cursive handwriting, this was the opposite, yet it was quite legible.

 _Funny. Does he dothat with all his notebooks?_ She wonders as she begins to copy. And with a swift look at the inside of his manpurse, which rests open in the space between them, she realizesall his notebooks are black. _Hmmm, I supposethat's what you do when all your notebooks look the same._

9:33 A.M.

Lunchtime comes, and almost everyone's topic is tonight's fair. The ghouls — our favorite ghouls of course — sit and discuss the plans fortoday. Everything seems to be ready and if things go as planned, they'll wrap it up with a movie that shows that humans and monsters can be friends, not because it is a lame corny story about friendship, but because of the actors themselves (some are even married couples!); of course, there is always that unpredictable factor that ruins everything, whether is one of the ghouls going through a mystical portal dragging along others with her, or some giant beast going berserker and blowing things up, or even a mystery that unravels some great ancient… whatever you like. Truth is they can never know with themselves, it is always something new.

"So maybe we should put a sign that says 'Come at your own peril!'Can't say it doesn't fall right into they spirit of Halloween,"Lagoona says jocularly."But they will probably think is all part of the fun."She points out.

Almost all the ghouls at the table laugh.

Frankie sighs deeply. "I hope the fair works."

"You ghouls are being so paranoid, what's the worst that can happen?" Rochelle asks."That it starts raining and everyone has to leave early? So, they can just come back tomorrow for the party."

" _I can think of at least fourteen very bad scenarios worse than rain_ ," Ghoulia mumbles. " _But maybe I shouldn't bring them up, wouldn't want to jinx it_."

"As if rain were ever a problem." Abbey puts in. "Unless that rain turns to ice pellets the size of a yeti's fist there is no reason to find cover."

"What do you think, Clawdeen?" Lala asks.

"Whatever," says Clawdeen playing with her meat.

"You're not feeling this conversation, eh? Got something else inyour mind?" Rochelle inquiries.

"Yeah, actually I do. The thing is, wellI'm kinda leaving the fair early and I really need you to cover for me."

"What? Why?"Frankie asks surprised that she has such plans.

"You better have a good reason for bailing on your friends,"Cleo says half berating, half playing with her.

"Depends on what you think a good reason is,"says she.

"Okay, pour it out." The mummy orders.

"I might, sorta totally have a date tonight," says looking at her food, feeling all her friends staring at her inshock.

"Sorry, I think I heard you say you got a _date?_ " Frankie says, taken aback.

"A date as in only you and one guy?"Venus says in shock.

"Oh good, so it wasn't just me. You all heard that,"Cleo says.

"Yeah, for a moment there I thought I was high,"Blueretorts then ads quickly."Are _you_ high? You know what a date is, right?"

"Yeah. 'Cause for what I've heard you don't really got many of those." Twyla comments.

"More like _any_ of those,"Spectra says.

Clawdeen glares at them. "Yes,I know what a date is. And I got one or not."

"Idon't." Spectra says with the ghouls nodding in agreement.

"Wow, youghouls felt that?" Lagoona says. "I think the Earth just stopped spinning, maybe we should check outside and see there are no pigs flying."

All the ghouls laugh, except for Clawdeen.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I got it, I never had a date, and it looked like never will," says bitterly."And now I finally do,big deal."

"It is a big deal, this a miracle of epic proportions. Praised be to Ra," Cleo jokes.

"At last the national nightmare is over! And here I was starting to thinkClawdeen on a date would like an actual sign of the Apocalypse," Blue giggles, getting a scowl from her."Easy ghoul, we're just messing around. Pretty sure the world will spin long enough for you to have at least a second date."

Clawdeen sighs. "I know, I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. Like you have all so cleverly pointed out, I have never had a real date before. At least not one that worked."

"So, who is the Lucky One? Is he someone we know?" Frankie asks.

"Is it Romulus? I think I saw him roaming around the school ground," Draculaura says.

"Okay first of all: ew!" Clawdeen points at her, feeling repulsion for the idea of dating Romulus. "Secondly, never in a lifetime."

"Then who is he?"

"Like you don't know." Rochelle sneers with a knowing look in her pink eyes.

" _I think I got a good idea who that is_ ,"Ghoulia says with a sly grin.

"I'm… going out with Keith."

All the ghouls stare at her in shock again, silent for almost a whole minute,exceptforGhouliaandRochellewhohadalreadyguessed. Surprised bolts jump from Frankie's neck.

"Iknewyouwerespendingtoomuchtimewithhim!"Twylasays.

"So he finally asked you out, eh?"Rochelle asks.

"Yes," Clawdeen says a little blushed.

"And naturally you said yes. I should not be surprised, but I am." Surprised, and a little betrayed,that is it."Glad you are finally going out with somebody. Good for you!" Yeah, good for her… _I guess…?_

"Am sorry, did you say Keith, as in always grumpy and socially awkward Keith?" Lagoona asks.

"Yep."

"The same Keith that jumps out of a window when there is too much people around?"Blue goes one.

"Yep."

"The same one who had an intervention for his almost pyromaniacal tendencies in his magic acts?"

"Yes," she sighs.

"All right,I will ask this again, and please be honest with me, because we can't go through that you _high?_ How did that happen?"

"Well, I was helping him with something about biology yesterday, and we spent a while talking, and then he dropped me at my house yesterday and asked me if I wanted to go out, and I said yes. The problem is I'm still grounded, so we can only do it today."

"Maybe _I am_ high." Blue says confused and flabbergasted.

"I don't see what the big surprise it wasn't obvious. She's being infatuated with him ever since she saw him on the podium." Rochelle points out.

Clawdeen sneers. "Yes, I admit I might have thought he was scary cute even then. And now that I know him betterI kinda like him a lot more."

"Okay, now I feel like the earth actually stopped spinning." Lagoona says."I mean Clawdeen, on a date, with _Keith Morningstar_ , of all guysyou're dating the one guy that is known for not liking people. You arehaving dinner with the guyyou happened to call a jerk and who has poor social skills. Pretty sure that's a sign of the Apocalypse."

"That's unfair." Clawdeen drawls.

"Yeah… not really, you did call him a jerk, several times, for quite some time,"Spectra says.

"So? Cleo is a jerk, and yet we're friends,"says the werewolf girl, the girls around her giggle in agreement.

And while all the ghouls find this to be both confusing and amusing, Robecca looks quite worried.

"Alright, what's in _your_ mind?" Clawdeen points at her with her fork.

"Nothing, I am glad you finally got a date…" says getting a peeved look from her."Well… Are you sure is a good idea?"

"Is just a date, what's the worst that could happen?"

Steam mulls for a moment, then says"Have you heard the rumors there are about him?"

Spectra, Clawdeen, Lala, Rochelle and Twyla roll their eyes.

"Didn't we have this argument before?I don't do that anymore, and you shouldn't either."Clawdeen snaps quickly.

"If you're talking about the chair thing again —" Frankie begins, but she interrupts her before she finishes her sentence.

"No, that's old news. I mean the _other_ things _._ " Says with an ominous voice.

Clawdeentakesherclawtoherhead."Oksince it seems like you are bent into taking Spectra's old place as our appointed gossip ghoul whenever we talk about Keith…" she gets a hurt look form her."I'llbite,whatdotheysay now?"

"Well, some started since he moved in. Most of them are very bad things. InfactIhaven'theardgoodthingsaboutKeith at 'dbeenanotoriousthugathislastschoolandthatheleaveseverynighttohandlehisbusiness,thatbeingthereasonwhyhegoesAWOLsooften."

Clawdeen stares at her fixedly with madness lurking behind her bright yellow eyes, as a wolf ready to pounce at her. "And they say they got of the guys say he has a lot of scars on his body, that they saw them when he waslate in the shower and thought nobody was looking."

"That's their proof? A lot of students got scars on their bodies, doesn't make them evil." Clawdeen reasons fiercely.

"Notjustanyscars,bulletsshotsandstabwounds."

Herearsdeceiveher!Thatisquiteanoutrageousrumor,andevenmoreoutrageousisthatherfriendseemstobelievethem!

Naturally, she hasn't been through the same as they have.

"That is stupid! Besides, you believe the word of whoever violated his privacy?!" She snarls at her, fangs bared."How veritable is the word of someone who says looks at a guy in the shower when he clearly wants privacy?"

"Yeah, he takes a shower late so nobody can see himnaked for whatever his reasons are, and they decide to spy on him? That's the last kind of people you shouldn't trust!" Frankie says sparking bolts.

Clawdeen tries to process this, then beginsin a calm voice, as calm as she can."Listen, he might make an occasional chocolate shoplifting, get pulled by a DUI, or take advantage of people who are just too dumb to walk around with anything too valuable in their pockets, but he is not a seasoned criminal. He could not kill… an innocent…"saysrememberingthe night he killed Richard, and for the look on Draculaura, Frankie and Rochelle's faces,so do they."Those rumors are stupid and I suggest you don't listen to them."

Clawdeen stabs her steak with anger. There is a brief moment of awkward silence. She chows and swallows her food, trying to forget the last three minutes of conversation.

"Well, looks like you really _like_ this guy if you defend him like this," Cleo points out.

"I don't think we should pay attention to those rumors, I mean we all learned that those are a very bad thing," Rochelle isunable to believe she herself is defending him, and she can already see his mocking smile as he says _Aw, you love me_ , ina most arrogant tone if he finds out.

"Yeah, I mean I have heard rumors about Toralei being in some 'amateur' porn videos, fully knowing what she was doing, but that doesn't mean she is really capable of such thing, right?" Twyla says.

The ghouls stare at her as in a mix of disbelief and awe."Okay…"

That is indeed quite a rumor, but she is right, there is always a stupid rumor about anyone, doesn't mean they're real. They have all learned that rumors are evil and not always come from any believable source, if not never. For all they know, this was made by someone who came to grudge him for… well, he is Keith, to know him is to grudge him.

"True, maybeI shouldn't listen to them." Robecca says abashedly.

Lagoona stares at her salad, and then suddenly bursts into laughter."Sorry, sorry. But that's the mostridiculousthingI have ever heard. I mean, who would believe he is a — a gangsta with anxiety issues?What's he gonna do with a gun in a shutout? Best situation for him is if he jumps out of the window because there are too many people, am I right?" She laughs. The ghouls laugh along, except for Clawdeen, Draculaura, Frankie and Rochelle who use their best fake laugh, fully knowing of what he is capable with a gun."What gangsta or narc in the world would do magic tricks and have a perfect record of straight A's? And what is Devon, his would-be-crock-cop buddy? I have a hard time picturing them as narcs."Then hervoicetrailsoff,andherblueeyeswiden."Butthen, …?AndI thinkhedoeslivealone,andhe'sawfullysecretive…Clawdeen!Whatifit'strue?"

"Trust me, you don't know him like I do, he is way too smart to waste his brain and time with people like them. And way too arrogant to put up with them — or for them not to shoot him."

"If you know him so well, then where is he right now?" Cleo asks.

"Hey, I'm not his mother. I don't _have_ to know all about him. Besides, I like the mystery."Wolf retorts."But he's probably in his room or eating outside. He likes to eat in the open, and/or away from people."

"And what are your plans for tonight?" Rochelle goes on inquisitively.

"Well, he said he wanted to take me to this new super fancy restaurant at the town's schism."

"Wait, you mean to _LaTavoladi Dante!?_ " Cleo asks in bafflement.

"Yes, you know that place?"

"Yeah! That is like _the_ most expensive restaurant in all the city, if not the whole state! I took Deuce there last week,he insisted that we should go try their food,and I thought I could pay it with my own Golden Card, but turns outI couldn't. Luckily I happened to take my dad's Black Diamond Card 'cuz the dishes are super expensive."

"Sure it didn't have anything to do with all the shopping you did prior to your date?" Clawdeen asks.

"…Maybe… But that doesn't change what I said, that place is way too expensive, and so worth it. Specially the deserts, they're die for!"

" _You're already dead_." Ghoulia points.

"Well, in our cases, to come back to life and die for again. How is he gonna pay for that?"

"Maybe somebody is a narc." Twyla comments, taking a bite of her sandwich, getting a swift annoyed look from Clawdeen.

"That is…" she began, but then stops to think how on earth is he gonna pay for a place that expensive? "Oh God, my date is a narc," says regretfully.

9:47A.M.

Keith's Room.

"Now there you are," says grabbing his cat Selina. "You know this is whyI think maybe I should put a stupid bell on your neck. Or perhaps some lights. Then again last time I put a laser on your collar you went nuts everywhere," he laughs, staring into those big blue eyes with slanted eyes.

He always found mesmerizing thevertical slanted shape of their pupils.

"I know what you're thinking, or at least what you would think if you were smart enough to fully understand what I'm about to do. But maybe you're smart enough to know it is not something you want to witness, and that's why you're hiding." He sighs deeply. "Lucky for you, or else we would be arguing about it, that this is dangerous and stupid, and I should drop this while I still can," says looking at Richard's spell book, one of many grimores,"to go back to the shore while the water is still on my knees and not my neck and I want to, sweetie, I really do. Yet, I must do it for _her_ and the others… Yes, I have grown quite fond of them too. And also I must do it because why not?! This is the greatest challenge to my capacities in magic. Oh you're so lucky you can't really understand all I say, or else I would really rant and whine on you about how unfair is evolution by granting some species a far _greater_ affinity to the magic and mystical energies that flow around us and form part of the universe. And what to say about the energies with which they're born, they get to consume all the power there is out there, and we are left with no choice but toscavenge to get any form of magic. Damn _homo magi!_ " Sayswithout hatred but with some bitterness and envy in his voice. At times he really whishes he had been wizard. "But even in that situation, or maybe all because of it, I thrive and achieve more than any other human. For I am Keith Morningstar, and I shall not take anyone as my superior in any way! Specially not when it comes to crafting magic. No sir, mama Morningstar didn't raise a fool and, papa didn't raise me at all! So yes, I shall practice this… _Unknown Magic_ , even here at this school,specially here since all the magic and energies that flow throughand impregnate the walls of this castle are more powerful than anywhere else making it the optimum place for me to perform these rituals. Even that house with all the dark magic flowing in those rooms pales to the power that contains this simple room." Explains with fervor, as though his cat could really understand a single word he says.

Slowly and unceremoniously, he sits before a bowls which steams with different magical ingredients boiling, waiting for him to read the spell, and asmall pyramid made of crystal encased within a gold and silver frame, the tips fully coveredin metal with no visible way to separate them, and inside the crystal there is a smaller gold pyramid floating still as if held by magnets strong enough to defy gravity.

"These are the most powerful,the mostdangerous magicalincantations known to man! Or perhaps should I say _unknown_ to slightest mistake might mean my doom,or worse yet, that I would end up looking like Dr. Doom — and yet — I must take the chance! For mine is not the only life might that might be at stake one day! And wouldn't it be so fucking awesome if I achieve this?!" He asks with a broad smile. "Good thing todayI got Study Hour after lunch. Now,I need you to leave, 'causeI don't want anything bad to happen to you," says putting away his cat so she would walk out through the window. Now, wouldn't it be so cool if he could use magic to close it from afar? But he doesn't,for starters he needs it open so he can breathe. These smokes aren't really good for your lounges, not on a long term, unless you got an oxygen mask you'll need a good window open, but he left the mask at the shack and heisn't about it to go looking for it now.

Now with dagger in hand and the crystal held tight in the other, in a low, sonorous voice, Keith Morningstar begins the powerful spell…

"In the name ofthe knave Kavaxas… In the name of the all-loving mistress Kurumu… By the powers that dwell in the darkness… Make thy presence known to me, the Morningstar…"

For a moment nothing happens. His face falls heavy into the ground, he is more than disappointed. He really wanted something to happen.

And quickly his sadness turns to anger, and it would appear that angeris the missing ingredient for the spell. Of course! How could he forget!? No dark magic has ever been achieved without hatred or anger in your heart. All those powerful feelings burning with passion — passion that give you strength, give you focus! — boundless now pouring into the crystal, the focuspoint of the spell, and as he holds it tightly, it suddenly glows scarlet with asmall cloud of crimson smoke of unknown origin growing inside,twirlingwildly. Then the crystalpyramid begins to float on his hand as the metal tips open, releasing the smoke, it glowswith more intensity now.

Slowly, in a deep hoarse voice, he beings to laugh "…ha-ha-ha…what fun… Ha-ha-ha-ha! What fun!" Roars wildly in laughter, a deep guttural eerie laughter that could chill the blood of anyone whowould have heard it, even a vampire, assuming they have anywarm blood in their bodies.

" _Haveyou summoned us?_ " Says a voice deep and reverberating —like a dragon starved of meat, a demon hungry for a soul.

This voice is almost amorphous, but he has a feeling it belongs to _him_.

"Yes. I. HAVE!" Answers without a shade of fear.

" _Who comes forward?_ " This time the voice is that of a woman,cold yet sweet and appealing — enticing andthroaty, just as he likesit, like Ms. Green's.

"Keith… Morningstar."

" _With what purpose?_ " They both ask. His voice feels like a sledgehammer against his left eardrum, while hers feels like the smooth and soft whipsper of a lover gently, and tenderly slithering into his right ear.

"I seek knowledge."

" _And do you know what knowledge is?_ " This time the voices switch sides.

"Knowledge… is power!" He says without hesitation.

" _Your are right, son of the Morningstar_ ," says the sweet but cold voce. _I'm gonna call her Ice Cream voice, sweet vanilla and strawberry_." _But only those willing to risk oblivion are worthy to claim it._ "

" ** _Do you have what it takes to claim such prize?_** "

This is it, this is the part where he stands at the edge of the abyss andlooks down, and unsurprisingly it looks back. He doesn't blink. Now he can turn back while he still can, just turn around and run away, or he canjump into the abyss. But the thing is he is already sinking into it, he has ever since that night, and all he has left now, is seemingly endless and darkemptiness in which to fall, until he hits the bottom. And he is going to do it — hit the bottom and drag as many of those bastards with him as he can!

"I do!"


End file.
